What Lies Beneath
by LadyWallace
Summary: Dean doesn't always notice everything about his little brother. Some things Sam keeps to himself. When Sam gets on the wrong side of bullies at school, he decides to take matters into his own hands with disastrous consequences neither brother expected. Teen!Chesters Sam is 15 Dean is 19
1. Chapter 1

**I've had the idea for this story running around in my head for a while, it originally started off as an idea for another fandom, but I thought it worked better with Sam and Dean. I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know what you think; reviews are always welcome :)**

**Disclaimer: Does not belong to me, I just borrow.**

What Lies Beneath

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

Sam groaned as his alarm clock beeped, heralding his wake up time. He swung his arm around to smack it roughly before rolling onto his back to cover his eyes with an arm.

"What did that alarm clock do to you, Sammy?" Dean asked from the other side of the room, rustling around to get ready. Sam could hear him grinning, but refused to look at him.

"Shut up."

"You're gonna miss school if you don't get up and shower now," his older brother reminded him annoyingly. Sam just groaned again.

"Man, usually you're so eager to get to school. Maybe you're finally getting some sanity into that geek-boy noggin' of yours."

"Go 'way," Sam ground out, not in the mood for Dean's teasing at all that morning.

"Have it your way."

Sam gasped as Dean suddenly grabbed his ankle and yanked him off the bed to tumble into a tangled pile of blankets. He finally looked up to see Dean already dressed and laughing, his hands planted firmly on his hips. Sam glowered at him.

"Dude, you need to get laid if you wake up with that kind of face," Dean said, never knowing when to shut up.

Sam kicked him and Dean reached down to grab him in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles roughly against the top of his head.

"Dean, stop!" Sam growled, trying to get away. Dean just laughed harder and squeezed Sam's side where he was ticklish. Sam gritted his teeth against the pain that action caused, pain he was not going to show to his brother, and finally wiggled loose as the door to their room opened and their father stood there sternly.

"Stop fooling around, boys, we've got work to do. I need you, Dean."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, instantly sobering and releasing Sam.

"Sam, fifteen minutes. Dean and I need to get out of here, and if you want a ride to school you need to be ready by then," John added.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied tiredly. He reached into the drawer that held his clothes and pulled out a fresh outfit before heading to the shower. Once he was behind the closed door, he sagged, leaning against the wall to even out his breathing. He started the shower and then gingerly pulled off his sleep shirt, wincing as he did so. He looked down at the collection of bruises he had gotten Friday that mottled his ribs and stomach. He closed his eyes, thinking back to it:

_ "We'll teach you a lesson, Winchester!" Paul, the ringleader, promised him, shoving him hard in the chest so that he fell back against the other two boys who grabbed one of his arms each. Paul still sported the black eye Sam had given him the day before in retribution to his tripping Sam's friend in the hall. Apparently Paul wasn't quite the coward Sam had thought him._

_ Paul screwed up his fist. He was far bigger than Sam who was still small and wiry, no matter how much training his dad had him do to get him to bulk up. He knew that on skill alone, he could take Paul by himself easy, but he had cronies, and they were pretty strong themselves. _

_ "I'll give you a nice shiner too, see if the girls think you're a handsome hero then!" Paul threatened and Sam turned his face aside in anticipation for the blow._

_ "Paul, wait," one of the boys cut in, a bit nervously._

_ "What?" the bully growled._

_ "Maybe it's best we don't mark up his face, you know?" the boy ventured. "I mean, if his brother saw the bruises he'd tear us new ones. That guy's mental."_

_ Paul stopped to consider this as Sam smiled, annoyed and proud at the same moment that his big brother struck such fear into these schoolyard bullies._

_ "Yeah, I guess you have a point," Paul finally agreed. "But he's still gonna get what's coming to him."_

_ Sam hadn't really known what to expect. He figured they'd throw a couple punches and be done, but Paul seemed pretty serious and after the first three fists he took to his gut, the other boys threw him to the ground where Paul leveled a foot into his side several times. Sam was left curled up and gasping for breath afterward, his ribs and stomach aching. Paul kicked him onto his back and pressed a foot in the middle of his chest._

_ "That's a warning! You think about punching me in front of everyone again, and I won't go so easy next time."_

_ Sam growled at him. "Well, maybe you should think about who you bother, Paul. No one messes with my friends."_

_ Paul's face clouded over and he kicked Sam in the side again, harder than before. "Run home, Winchester. Don't let me see your sorry ass again. If you try anything Monday, I will bust you up."_

_ Sam drug himself to his feet and cast only one look back at the bullies before making his way home, deciding right then not to tell Dean about what had happened._

He wasn't sure if it was the best idea not to tell Dean, and was actually rather surprised that his big brother hadn't mentioned anything. Usually he could see right through him. But there were good things about Dean no longer being in school. This was one of them. Sam could have his secrets, and he didn't think Paul would really try to take him down again, so once the bruises healed, that would be it and he could go on with his life. It wasn't the worst beating he had taken, surely. He'd had worse from training with his dad and Dean. He would live and it would all be forgotten soon enough.

But then again, Sam wasn't sure Paul would stop bothering his friends, and if he decided to beat them like he did Sam, then that wasn't going to fly with the younger Winchester. The other kids hadn't grown up in a tough environment like he had and they didn't know how to take a punch. But maybe he was overreacting. He was too paranoid from his dad's lessons. Paul was just a schoolyard bully and nothing more; not some monster they needed to gank. Really a coward at heart, and there was nothing dangerous about him and no reason Sam should feel the trepidation he did thinking of going to school again.

"Sammy, come on!" Dean said, pounding on the bathroom door, and with a start, Sam realized he had been standing there for several minutes, just lost in thought. This was so not a good start to the school week what with the tests coming up that Friday. He quickly jumped into the shower after telling Dean he would be right out, and scrubbed as quickly as possible before toweling his hair into some semblance and throwing his clothes on, racing out the door just as his dad was starting to get impatient.

"Come on, kiddo," Dean said to Sam, tossing his backpack to him on their way out the door. "Dad and I need to get to that poltergeist before it totally trashes that family's house."

"Sorry," Sam grunted, ducking his head. He would skip breakfast, he guessed, since there didn't seem to be time for it. John was already out in the Impala and Sam and Dean ran out to jump into the car as their father started it up and drove as fast as legally possible toward the school.

"Have a good hunt," Sam told them as he grabbed his bag.

"You stay safe, Sam, you know the rules," John told him, tossing him the keys to the apartment they were renting.

"Yeah, Dad," Sam replied. "I'll be fine."

"See you in a couple days, Sammy," Dean told him with a grin. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

"Well that's a long and sordid list," Sam muttered sarcastically, unable to help smiling at his brother's longsuffering face before he slid out of the car and watched his family drive away.

"Sam, hey!"

Sam started slightly, spinning around at the shout, before he realized it was his friend Jeremy. The red-haired boy gave him a quizzical look.

"Hey, you all right? You look a little jumpy."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said as they started to walk toward the school. "Just tired. Didn't sleep real well last night."

"Hey, um, about last week," Jeremy said, lowering his voice. "With Paul, you know? I don't think I thanked you for that, but it was really awesome what you did. No one's ever stood up for me like that before. Everyone's just either picked on me or not cared enough to do anything. And I guess I've just gotten used to it, I don't really care anymore." He smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, me too," Sam said. "That's why I learned to stand up to them."

"Well, thanks again. Even though it kind of made me look like a damsel in distress." He stuck his tongue out, punching Sam lightly in the shoulder. "Maybe you can teach me some of those moves? I saw the way the girls looked at you after you 'rescued' me. I could totally dig that. Maybe then, Laura Reilly would actually consider going to prom with me."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I could show you some stuff."

Jeremy grinned. "Awesome! Where'd you learn anyway?"

"My brother taught me," Sam said with some pride.

"Dean?" Jeremy asked almost wistfully. "He's pretty awesome you know? I would give anything to have a big brother like that. He's just so sure of himself and he gets all the hot chicks. I wish I could be like that."

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes, thinking how telling Dean what Jeremy thought would only make him more bigheaded than he already was. "I'll let him know."

They reached the lockers and stowed the books they wouldn't need until later. As Sam was turning away, he caught sight of Paul standing with his shadows and the big boy gave him a slow smile. Sam glared back at him, holding his gaze to show him he wasn't intimidated, even as his heart was pounding against his ribs. Paul drew a finger across his throat in the universal sign of 'you're a dead man'.

"Sam?" Jeremy sounded worried and Sam snapped out of his trance, turning away from Paul to his friend again.

"Yeah?" he asked, forcing a smile.

"Dude, did Paul tear you a new one for what you did?" the redhead asked quietly. "His girlfriend was watching and I think he got detention for a day when he wouldn't say who gave him the shiner. I've seen him beat up kids before for less."

Sam shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant, as they headed toward their first class. "A few words were exchanged. No big deal though. I'm sure he'll have forgotten about it by next week."

Jeremy was silent and Sam felt the worry exuding from him, and he seemed like he wanted to say something when the bell rang and they had to hurry to make it to the other side of the school in time for their history class.

Thankfully, Paul wasn't in any of his classes until after lunch period, so Sam was able to concentrate on his work and took notes for the test that would be at the end of the week. He had been pleased to get an A on his essay about the Civil War and felt confident that he could pass the test easily. Dean had even promised to buy him ice cream if he did and take him to see any movie he wanted to. Sam smiled just thinking about the possibilities of what he could make Dean sit through as the bell rang and he and Jeremy hurried to the next class.

By the time lunch came around, Sam was beginning to feel better, not so jumpy and had mostly forgotten about Paul and his threats that morning. That was, until one of Paul's cronies bumped into Jeremy at the lunch line and made him spill half his food off his tray.

"Watch it looser," the boy said oh-so-cleverly before giving a stupid snorting laugh. Jeremy sighed, but Sam boiled, his fists clenching as he turned to the boy who he thought was named Dave.

"Hey, you watch it," he said in a low voice.

Dave made a face, pretending to look affronted. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Freak."

Sam flinched. He had been called a lot of things, but that one always hurt the most. And he didn't even really know why. It was only that he lived such a strange life, that he only ever hoped for normal. Something that he really only got at school, and he knew the bully couldn't have known how much Sam hated the word _freak_ but it still burned in his chest, making him turn aside instantly.

"What's the matter, Winchester, don't want to fight anymore? I guess Paul's lesson finally got through your thick head." He laughed and shouldered roughly past Jeremy again, nearly knocking the boy down. He grabbed Sam's jacket as he passed him and leaned close. "Let that be a warning, freak. If you think of crossing Paul again, he's gonna give you more than just a few bruises."

Sam jerked away from him and grabbed Jeremy's sleeve, pulling him away from Dave, going to find their usual table.

"Dude," Jeremy said as they sat down, looking a little pale. "You really managed to get on Paul's bad side. What was he talking about, though? What lesson?"

Sam kept his eyes on his food, jabbing with his fork but not feeling very hungry all of a sudden. "I told you; he had a talk with me Friday. It was nothing."

Jeremy looked at him, unbelieving. "Don't lie to me, man. I know Paul. I grew up around him and he's always been mean, and he's just gotten worse. I have seen him beat up kids before. He's never gotten caught though, and no one's ever fought back. That's why I'm worried about what he might do to you."

Sam sighed. "Fine, he hit me a couple times, but it's nothing. I've…it wasn't bad." He didn't think saying 'I've had worse' would be a good idea. Jeremy might get the wrong idea about him and his family in general. His dad would have the skin off his backside if the suspicion that Sam was abused ended up circulating. No one would understand that the injuries he took were from hunting, and it wasn't like they could tell the truth anyway. They tried to keep away from as much attention as possible.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Jeremy asked, his eyes wide.

Sam forced a smile for his friend's benefit. "Yeah, sure. He doesn't hit that hard anyway."

Jeremy shook his head. "Dude, you are a dead man walking. I hope he's done with you because he might not go so easy next time."

"What's his problem anyway?" Sam asked, trying to change the subject.

Jeremy shrugged. "Like I said, he's always been like that for as long as I can remember. Just bad tempered. I think it's mostly due to his older brother though. He's eighteen and a jock—like, top player in the football team. But he's a nasty piece of work. He's really mean, not just a bully like Paul. Last year a couple of the players from a rival team were beaten pretty badly, like, hospital bad. No one was able to prove who did it, but we all knew it was Chris. Rumor has it they had been playing around and tried to mess things up for our school's team and caused them to lose, like pinned something on them or whatever; so Chris went and taught them a lesson. It was wrong on both sides, but still. It was pretty intense."

"So Paul wants to take after his big brother," Sam said, frowning at the thought of what this Chris guy had done.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Jeremy said with a dry chuckle. "Chris might be a piece of work, but he's popular. If you like controlling, evil tyrants, that is. All I'm saying is just be careful. I'm worried Paul might take after his brother more than we think."

Sam was silent, thinking it over as he finished his lunch. Finally the bell rang and they got back to their lockers to get to their final classes. Math was next, and Paul was in the same class as Sam, and worse, he sat behind him. Sam could feel his eyes boring into him through the whole hour of class, making it hard to concentrate. His teacher called on him once and he had no idea what the answer to her question was. That had never happened before, and several of the kids snickered at him, Paul instigating them.

"Sam, are you feeling well?" the teacher asked him.

"Yes, ma'am, just didn't sleep real well last night, sorry."

"Well, get your head in the game. The test is Friday, and you'll need to be sharp."

Sam nodded and tried to concentrate despite Paul's renewed attack. Now that he knew it was bothering Sam, he deliberately stared at the back of his head for the rest of class. Sam could almost feel his satisfied smirk.

Only two more classes to go that Sam somehow survived, and then he hurried to his locker to grab his stuff and beat a hasty retreat.

He just barely reached his locker before Paul gripped his shoulder and slammed him back against the door, putting his face right into Sam's.

"So, Winchester, did you learn your lesson Friday, or am I gonna have to teach you again?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Paul, I'm just wondering whether you've got it into your thick skull yet not to bother my friends," Sam said, unable to help himself.

The big boy glared at him, shoving his back hard against the locker. "You think you can talk big, but you're just a skinny freak and I know I can wipe the floor with you. And your big brother isn't here to save you either. I know. I heard you talking to him this morning when you got here. You're all alone, Winchester."

"Paul!" Dave was suddenly there, gripping the big boy's shoulder. "Teacher!"

Paul instantly pulled back, letting go of Sam as the teacher passed. Then he turned back to the smaller boy and resumed his threatening stare. "We'll resume this later. Keep that in mind." Then he hurried off.

Sam breathed a deep sigh and turned to get his stuff from his locker. Jeremy was suddenly beside him, pale.

"Dude, that was close. You should stay in populated areas from now on."

"I can handle him," Sam said, though he wasn't so sure anymore. He seemed to have again underestimated Paul. That kid had a lot of anger, or something, to prove and he was far more serious than Sam had originally thought. He didn't want to have to hurt him, but he would if that was the only way to get Paul to back off.

"Hey, you wanna come over to my house and study this afternoon?" Jeremy asked. "I could really use your help. You're way better at history and stuff than I am, and I'm totally gonna fail the test if I don't get some serious cramming done. Unless you have to do something with Dean this afternoon?"

Sam shook his head, smiling. "Nah, Dean and my dad are gonna be gone for a few days actually so I'm free."

Jeremy brightened. "Cool! My mom can give you a ride home afterward. Maybe you can stay for dinner."

They walked out of the school and down the street to Jeremy's house that was only about a fifteen minute walk away from the school. Sam normally would have relished the thought of spending the afternoon with his friend studying and having a real dinner like a normal teenager, but he couldn't stop thinking about Paul and his brother and how he felt something really bad might be about to happen. He only hoped he was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**On to the second chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I'm glad you're liking it. Sam really gets put through the ringer in this story, poor kid. Hope you all continue to enjoy, and let me know what you think :)**

Chapter Two

Sam unlocked the door to the apartment, feeling a lot better than he had earlier that day. The normality of spending the afternoon with Jeremy and his family like a regular teenager had been the best medicine in the world for him. Jeremy was a cool guy, and Sam had been grateful to have made friends with him. He smiled wryly at the fact it was mostly Paul he had to thank for their becoming friends. If Sam hadn't seen Jeremy get picked on by the bigger boy relentlessly, he might not have noticed the red-head at all, and his stay in that school would have been dreary at best. Jeremy made him feel normal. He didn't ask any invasive questions about Sam's family and why his dad was gone so often or what he did when he was. Nor did Jeremy's family, Sam had found. They were all really nice and more importantly, tactful, people. His mom was awesome, and his dad wasn't demanding like John, and Jeremy's little sister was hilarious and Sam could tell Jeremy looked after her and loved her as much as Dean did to Sam, though on a lesser, suburban scale. He felt bad for saying it, because he loved his dad and Dean, of course, but he couldn't help but want something like what Jeremy had either. His friend didn't know everything he had to be thankful for.

Sam was glad when John had said they would be staying in town for a while. The last six months had been hard, and they needed a little routine, so John had rented the apartment and when he wasn't off on a hunt, they pretended to be a family. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, surely, and Sam knew his dad was trying his best, and because of that, he tried to appreciate it for what it was. Still though, a real family and a real home would be better than anything.

He dropped his book bag on the kitchen table, flipping the light on and going to the refrigerator to grab the milk carton and take a drink. He poured several drops into his mouth and groaned. Dean must have finished it that morning. He would have to go shopping tomorrow after school if he wanted to eat. After all, he couldn't impose himself upon Jeremy's family every night for dinner.

He had finished all his homework earlier, so he just went to the living room and decided to watch some TV to get himself drowsy enough to go to sleep. He liked having the freedom of being on his own, but he would be lying if he said the nights were easy. He had seen way too much even if his fifteen years to trust the night, and feel comfortable enough to sleep through it, especially alone. Sure, he was old enough to take care of himself, and he would never admit it, but he still felt uneasy when his big brother wasn't nearby at night. Dean had always been a comforting presence for as long as he could remember, and when he wasn't there, Sam never did sleep well.

Of course, the .45 under his pillow did help as well as did the bowie he carried and the butterfly knife Dean insisted he bring to school. He had grabbed the pistol from his bed before he sat down, in case he fell asleep on the couch. He was feeling paranoid still, even though he knew Paul wouldn't come to get him here. He still hadn't let go of the feeling that everything wasn't over yet between them. And that feeling had only been strengthened with Jeremy's story about Paul's older brother. If Paul really thought he was wronged by Sam, would he be willing to take the same road as his big brother? Sam couldn't help but think that he and the bully would have to have a reckoning. But even then, would it only make matters worse? His still slightly smarting ribs reminded him that Paul had been serious enough then. If Sam kept pushing him, even without meaning to, would Paul push back harder?

Before long though, exhaustion won out. He hadn't slept well for the past few nights, not since Paul had 'taught his lesson'. So, lulled by the .45 he had close to hand, he feel into a deep sleep, finally surrendering to the exhaustion, deciding it was worth more worrying about the tests at the end of the week than the bully.

* * *

_Sam started awake to _movement in the house and the smell of food cooking, or burning, more appropriately. He sat up quickly, groping for the pistol, groggy from the deep sleep he had had.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty; wondered when you'd get up." Sam sagged in relief as he saw his brother's smirk, peeking around the division into the living room. "Made you pancakes."

Sam got up, realizing he was still in his clothes from the day before, and staggered into the kitchen, stifling a yawn. "You're back early," he said lamely.

"Yeah, the poltergeist job was an easy one," Dean told him, setting a stack of slightly black pancakes in front of him along with the butter and syrup. "Dad got a call for another job right after we left so he actually went off on that one while I cleaned up the house and saved the family from the dangerous poltergeist." He grinned. "They had a hot daughter, Sammy. She was _very_ grateful for the rescue this handsome knight made."

Sam groaned. "Spare me the details." He took a bite of pancakes and decided they weren't too terrible. Certainly they were less black than usual. Some peanut butter and they were actually edible.

"Want me to drive you to school?" Dean asked, sitting down with his own huge stack and pouring syrup liberally over them.

"Yeah, that would be great. I'm already probably going to be late." He looked at the clock and saw there wasn't going to be time for a shower. He would just have to make due with a change of clothes. "Oh, and you might want to do some shopping today."

"I noticed," Dean said through his full mouth. "You have a party while I was gone of something?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his big brother. "You know I'm the responsible one, Dean. You were the one who stuffed your face before you left."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Sam ate some more and then ran off to change and gather his stuff. "Come on, Dean, I'm gonna be late!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then you shouldn't have slept so long. You were seriously out, dude, I came in at four this morning and you didn't even wake up. Dad would have your hide for that. You feelin' all right?" There was a slight concern in his eyes that was always there. Dean really was overly protective. That was one thing that never changed over the years, and probably never would.

"I'm fine, Dean, just been putting in a lot of hours for homework and stuff. I really want to do well of the tests."

"Dude, can you be more of a nerd? At this rate, you won't get laid until you're thirty and that's being generous." Dean shook his head, but the small smile that curled his lips told Sam that he was proud of him all the same. He finished the last dripping bite of pancake and got up, grabbing the keys to the Impala. "Come on then. Can't let Cinderella be late for the geek ball."

Sam groaned, but grabbed his backpack and followed Dean out to the Impala. He got to school just before the bell and ran inside, hoping he wouldn't be late. He stopped only when he got to his locker, for standing in front of it was Paul and his cronies. He drew his shoulders back and glared at them, his hands fisting at his sides.

"Get out of my way, Paul," he said in a low voice.

Paul smirked. "'Get out of my way, Paul'," he mimicked in a singsong voice. "I don't think so, Winchester. You and I have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, and I've got a class I need to get to, so if you'll excuse me," Sam told him and shouldered past the bully, actually knocking him into Dave who staggered and almost fell. Sam finished his locker combo before he felt a hand descend on his shoulder and Paul's face was suddenly next to his.

"This isn't done."

"Then why don't you just beat me up now and be done with it?" Sam asked, grabbing the right books and nonchalantly throwing the rest into his locker. "Stop threatening me and do something about it."

Paul looked like he was going to say something, but just jabbed a finger into Sam's chest. "I'll make good on my threats soon enough, Winchester. You can be sure of that."

Sam gave him a mock scared look as he slammed his locker shut and ran to his classroom, already late. Everyone looked up at him as he entered, and he saw Jeremy give him a somewhat relieved glance. Sam apologized to the teacher and hurried over to the empty desk beside the redheaded boy's.

Jeremy leaned over to whisper to him as he sat down. "Dude, I thought you were dead meat. I was sure Paul had dumped your body somewhere."

Sam smirked ruefully at Jeremy's exaggeration that he could tell covered how worried the other boy really had been. Again, it showed him that this might be a more serious case than he had initially thought. "Don't worry, Jeremy, I don't think Paul is going to make good on his threats."

"Sam…"

"Mr. Winchester, Mr. Callum, save conversation for after class, please," their teacher said sternly as he finished writing something on the board.

"Sorry, sir," the boys said together before turning to their textbooks.

Despite what Jeremy seemed to think, Sam wasn't so sure he was correct. The rest of the morning passed easily, and lunch was uneventful. Even in math class after lunch period, Paul didn't do any more than he had the day before, and Sam didn't let his glare bother him this time. By the time his last period came along, he was almost certain that Paul wasn't going to try anything.

That was until he was getting his stuff out of his locker in preparation to go home. He had been planning on asking Jeremy over to the apartment for another study session, hoping that Dean had done the shopping, but waited several minutes and didn't see him.

He was about ready to go look for his friend, when one of the girls Sam knew slightly—one he knew had a crush on him and was kind of cute—Clara, came running up, her face scared. She grabbed his arm.

"Sam!"

"What's wrong?" he asked her, his stomach plummeting.

"Steven said Paul has Jeremy cornered in the boy's bathroom. You have to go help him. I'm afraid he's going to hurt him!"

Sam barely thanked her before he was running full tilt down the hall to the restrooms. He burst through the door to the scene of Jeremy being held up against the wall by the front of his jacket as Paul thrust his face into his. The sight made Sam's blood boil.

"Put him down, Paul. This is between you and me."

Paul and his companions turned to him with a smile, dropping Jeremy so that he scurried along the wall to stand beside Sam.

"Well, look who showed up to save the damsel in distress again," Paul said, thinking he was obviously funny. His cronies laughed.

"Dude, we gotta run," Jeremy hissed at Sam, grabbing his sleeve and tugging backwards toward the door, as Paul came closer.

"What's the matter, Winchester, afraid to go up against me?" Paul taunted. "Where's you're big words from earlier."

"I don't want to fight you, Paul," Sam told him, trying to keep his anger at bay.

"Oh yeah? Who said anything about fighting? I was just planning on beating the crap out of you. Teach you a lesson. The last one didn't seem to stick well enough." Paul strode toward him and Sam instinctively stepped back, pushing Jeremy even farther behind him toward the door. He heard the other boy swallow hard.

"Paul, I'm warning you," Sam told him.

"You're warning me?" Paul asked, making a mock surprised face. "Ooh, that's a new one. Well, here's a little warning for you." He lashed out and hit Sam hard in the shoulder, throwing him back a pace. Sam instinctively went for him, but Paul brought a knee up into his already bruised ribs and as Sam doubled over, gasping, he threw him back with a kick to the stomach, causing Sam to crash into the trashcan, hitting the back of his head. He was momentarily dazed and his chest hurt as he sucked in breaths. His lower back had also hit the corner of the wall on his way down, though he didn't think it had been bad enough to do too much damage. It was crazy he knew that to begin with. That's what happened when you were a Winchester.

Paul and his friends laughed at Sam. He reached down and hauled the smaller boy to his feet by the front of his jacket. He picked him up and threw him at Jeremy who just barely caught and stabilized his friend before they both went to the ground. Paul then picked up Sam's backpack and thrust it into his chest roughly.

"Run then, Winchester," Paul told him mockingly. "I don't feel like playing with such a looser."

Sam drew himself up, already backing toward the door. "Just don't try anything again Paul. Because I will hurt you."

"Whatever, freak," Paul tossed back at him as Sam grabbed Jeremy's shoulder and hauled him from the bathroom, hurrying back down the hall before Paul could change his mind.

"Are you all right?" Jeremy asked. "That looked like a pretty hard fall."

"I'm fine," Sam said tersely. He wished he could have gone after Paul and taken him down. It would have been so easy. But that would have gotten him nowhere, he knew. He wanted the bully to leave them alone, sure, but not at the price of letting the whole school know he could take someone down twice his size with little effort. Didn't want them to know what a freak he really was. He had learned that lesson before. Even if it meant being humiliated, it was still better that way. "What about you?"

"I'm okay," Jeremy assured him. "He hadn't quite gotten to the hitting yet."

Sam looked up to see his brother walking into the school. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost fifteen minutes past the bell. Of course Dean would come looking for him, he realized with a groan of annoyance. He grabbed Jeremy and pulled him back around the corner.

"Listen, do not tell Dean about this, all right?" Sam hissed. "If he finds out, he'll tear Paul a new one and that we definitely don't need."

Jeremy nodded. "All right, I won't say a word. As long as you promise you're not hurt bad or something."

"I'm fine," Sam assured him and added a smile for effect. "You wanna come over to the apartment to study today?"

Jeremy smiled then. "Sure, I'll call my mom and let her know. I can't stay too long though, I'm going to my grandma's for dinner tonight."

Sam smiled wistfully, wishing he had a grandma to make him dinner. "Don't worry, we'll just go over the test questions a few times and then Dean will drive you home."

They turned around the corner again, and Dean was almost there, a frown on his face. He scowled harder when he saw Sam.

"Hey, where were you? I was waiting for twenty minutes out there," Dean told him angrily.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam said, forcing a smile. "I was just getting my stuff together and talking to Jeremy. Is it okay if he comes over to the apartment to study?"

Dean looked like he was going to say something else, then shrugged and smiled at the redheaded boy. "Yeah, sure, Jeremy. Sammy needs his geek friends to help him study. Though I'm still waiting for the day he brings a girl home."

"Dean, come on!" Sam groaned. "I am never bringing a girl home, because I know how you would act."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenged, pushing his brother toward the entrance.

"Yes, and she would never come over again."

Jeremy laughed, pulling his phone out to call his mom. As he stepped away from the Winchester brothers, Dean grabbed Sam's sleeve and turned him around to look at him.

"Okay, Sam, why were you late?" he asked quietly.

"Dude, it was fifteen minutes," Sam said, trying to keep a poker face, shoving Dean's hand away from him, not wanting him to hit a part of him that was smarting. "I can't talk to friends?"

"You promised me you would always meet me outside the school at three fifteen sharp," Dean said, tapping his watch. "It's three thirty-five."

"Yeah, and yesterday I was alone," Sam retorted.

"That's beside the point," Dean retorted, before adding mockingly, "You know I worry about you, Sammy. Don't want you getting into trouble or ending up in detention without telling me."

"Whatever, jerk," Sam told him, poking him in the side, as much as forgiving him.

"Bitch," Dean replied, knocking his shoulder hard enough to jar Sam's ribs. He bit back a wince, gritting his teeth. He was going to have to look at those later. He didn't think anything was actually broken, but they were putting off a continuous ache now. He knew he'd have some more bruises after his earlier run in with Paul.

Jeremy came back to them. "It's all settled as long as you can get me back to my house by five-thirty."

"Can do," Dean told him. "Come on then."

Sam looked back once as they left the school, and saw Paul standing by the entrance, grinning at him. Sam gave him his best glower, before running to catch up with Dean and Jeremy. If he ever got the chance, he would really enjoy having a reckoning with that jerk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is chapter three! I hope you all enjoy, Sammy finally gets to take on the bully here, but don't think that will be the end of the matter (dun dun dun) :P Hope everyone has been having a good weekend!**

Chapter Three

The afternoon went without a problem; Sam and Jeremy studied and even got Dean to quiz them, even though he pretended great reluctance, and then Dean drove Jeremy back to his house in time to go to his grandmother's house for dinner. Then Sam sat reading for a bit while Dean whipped up hamburgers for dinner.

"Thought we'd have a treat tonight, Sammy," he said with a grin. "My hard earned savings and all."

"You mean what you made last time you hustled pool?" Sam asked blandly.

Dean made a face at him. "Hey, I never made them put their money down, if they had been smart, they would have watched me play first. It's my innocent youthful charm that gets them every time."

Sam shook his head as he sat at the table and Dean put his plate in front of him. Ill-gotten gains or not, it smelled delicious, and Dean made a good burger.

Unfortunately, everything that had happened earlier had finally had a chance to set in, and Sam was fretting the next day of school. He knew Paul was only going to try to make trouble for him again, that was just the way bullies worked, and he knew that in order to stop it he would have to take Paul down. He didn't want to do that, but he knew that if he was going to be able to concentrate and finish this semester of school, not to mention protecting his friends, he was going to have to do some things he wasn't going to be proud of.

"Hey, you gonna eat that, squirt, or is my culinary masterpiece gonna go to waste?" Dean called from across the table.

Sam pulled himself from his inner turmoil and reached for his food. It wouldn't do to starve himself. He just couldn't stand that this was causing him so much grief. If it were Dean, he would have had Paul out behind the school and laid him on his ass, no questions asked. But Sam cared more than that. He cared what people thought of him, and he knew that if he beat Paul up, he would get new recognition at the school, and not the kind he wanted. It had happened before. All he wanted was to get good grades, and stay on the good side of the teachers; just get through the semester. He didn't want to make a big deal out of beating Paul at his own game. He didn't want to be the freak, for once.

"Hey, Sammy, you alright?" Dean asked him with a frown.

Sam nodded, taking a bite of his burger to hide his unease. "Yeah, of course." The last thing he needed was Dean seeing through him and poking his nose into matters he thought concerned him but really didn't. Dean was the one who taught him how to defend himself, he shouldn't have to be involved, or even worry about it. Sam could take care of himself. He had fought werewolves and wendigos and poltergeists, he could certainly handle a high school bully.

"You've just seemed a little off your game the last couple days," Dean commented, still watching his younger brother carefully. "You sure you aren't coming down with something?"

Sam bit back a sigh. "Dean, I'm fine, I'm just tired, and I've studied a lot in this past week. That's all." It felt wrong to lie to Dean, and he worried every minute that his ever-attentive big brother would find him out. But Dean just gave him a long look before he shook his head and reached for his can of soda.

"Yeah, that's the problem with being all geeky, Sammy. It hurts your brain. You know what you could use is a night off. Let's just watch some TV or something. Give your brain a rest."

"I guess," Sam replied. If it would get Dean off his case, then he was willing to try it. "I'm going to take a shower first though."

Dean grinned. "Good. You'll find a little relax works wonders."

"How would you know?" Sam couldn't help but quip. "You didn't do enough work in high school to need any relaxation at all."

Dean leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. "You try juggling three girlfriends and tell me that's not harder than your history homework."

Sam groaned and left the table to take his shower. He grabbed his pajamas from the room and started the water for the shower. He peeled his clothes off, wincing and nearly gasping as he realized how sore he was from his altercation with Paul that afternoon; he had really stiffened up without realizing it. He saw new bruises decorating his ribs over the old ones that had been mostly healed, and turned his back to the mirror to see several nasty bruises from his fall against the wall and trashcan. One was dangerously close above his kidneys. He supposed if he wasn't peeing blood it couldn't be too bad though.

He took his shower quickly, and hurried back out to Dean, before he got suspicious. He made sure none of his bruises were visible, however, changing his t-shirt for a long sleeved one. It wouldn't do to get that far and then have Dean find him out anyway.

"You cold?" Dean asked, noticing the long sleeves.

Sam shrugged. "Kinda. And I need to do laundry."

Dean smirked and nudged him with a foot. "Yeah, you should do that tomorrow otherwise you won't get into school for the smell."

Sam wrinkled his nose at him. "Yeah, and I'm the one in school. It wouldn't kill you to go to the laundry mat for me."

"We'll see. I do work, you know." Dean told him defensively, flipping the TV channels to find something good to watch as Sam shifted on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. His back and side really were aching. He wanted to take some pain pills for it but knew he couldn't without Dean noticing. He would just have to wait until Dean was asleep or in the shower. Just the thought of all the subterfuge made him sigh inwardly. But he also knew that if Dean got wind of this, he might try to keep him out of school (like that would work) and he would go all big brother and it was just too much for Sam to deal with right now with everything else. Oh how he just wanted to be a normal kid. Jeremy didn't know how lucky he had it. None of the kids at school did.

"Hey, mopey, I told you to get your head off the clock for a while, lighten up. I can almost feel you contemplating the meaning of life."

Sam forced a small smile as he tried to relax against the couch again, hiding a wince. "Alright, fine, I promise I won't think again. Now what are we watching?"

They spent a couple hours just sitting in companionable silence, laughing at the TV together. Sam nodded off against his will, somehow so exhausted he couldn't help it. His eyes slid shut and he drifted into troubled dreams, curling up tight in the corner of the couch as if trying to protect himself from assault. He jerked awake with a gasp of pain as something prodded his lower back where he was badly bruised.

"Geez, Sammy, I thought I told you to lighten up."

He looked up into Dean's concerned face, trying to gather his wits again, breathing heavily as he remembered he was safe. He shook himself and ran a hand over his face.

"You good?" Dean asked him for what seemed like the tenth time that day.

"I'm fine, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you?" Sam snapped.

Dean frowned. "Okay, well, the only time you snap at me like that is when you aren't, so if you're not gonna spill, I might just snoop around until I find out." He leaned back against the couch, his arms folded over his chest. "What is it, Sammy? The girl you like turn you down or something? You never stress this much about tests, I know you're too smart for that. Something else is wrong, and I'm starting to become insulted that you seem to think I'm not seeing it."

Sam sighed, weighing his options. He knew if he didn't give his brother something, Dean would just keep pressing until he lashed out and spilled everything. He had learned from long experience that giving half-truths was the best way to deal with his over protective big brother.

"All right, fine, it's just a friend of mine is getting picked on in school, and I had a couple rows with the guy who did it, that's all. It's nothing serious, he just said some things that rubbed me the wrong way."

Dean looked at him judgingly, his green eyes scrutinizing his younger brother's face. Sam held his breath, just knowing Dean wasn't going to buy that. He would keep pressing. But his brother just shook his head. "Well, you give him a thing or two to think about, Sam. I taught you better than that."

"Yeah, I know, don't worry, it's over."

"Okay," Dean said, still watching his face closely as Sam turned his gaze back to the TV. "But if you need anything, you know all you have to do is ask."

"Yeah, I know, and you'll come rip his lungs out," Sam said blandly. "I can take care of myself, Dean. I don't want to cause trouble."

"You rebel you," Dean smirked and nudged him with his socked foot, resting it against Sam's chest. The younger Winchester shoved his leg away.

"Get your dirty sock out of my face," he said, seeing the move for what it was, and obliging to play along if only to alleviate Dean's fears.

Dean smirked, seeing his bait had been taken. "Oh, my bad," he said and shoved his foot right into Sam's face. Sam spluttered and kicked out at Dean, catching him in the hip. In another second, they were throwing pillows at each other and eventually ended up in a heap on the floor, Sam in a headlock, his face forced into his older brother's armpit. He struggled as Dean laughed.

"Ugh, Dean, take a freakin' shower!" he moaned, punching his brother in the ribs until he let go.

Dean chuckled and rubbed his knuckles against the top of Sam's head before he let him get away.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," he said, standing up and stretching. "You should probably get some sleep, geek boy. Gotta get up bright and early for school tomorrow."

Sam groaned slightly, but knew Dean was right. Besides, he didn't want to admit it, but his tussle with Dean had really hurt his bruises. He waited until he heard the shower running in the bathroom before pulling his shirt up in the mirror in their room to see the bruising. It didn't look any worse than it had earlier, but that spot on his back was still a bit worrying, though it didn't feel like there was any internal damage when he pressed it, even if it did hurt. He quickly ran to find some Tylenol before Dean was out of the shower, and was in bed and mostly asleep by the time his brother returned.

"G'night, Sammy," Dean said before turning off the lamp and getting into his own bed.

Sam was exhausted, but worry still kept him up for several hours. He knew what he was going to have to do before the week was out and he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

_The next morning started_ normally. Dean didn't make him pancakes, but he had bought cereal from the store the day before and Sam had a bowl of that before gathering his books and having Dean drive him to school. Jeremy met him out front as usual with a smile.

"Only one more day until the tests," he said with a grimace. "I am so not ready."

"You'll do fine," Sam assured him, looking around to make sure Paul and his cronies weren't waiting to jump him or Jeremy anytime soon. Jeremy snapped his fingers in his face, startling him.

"Hey, you good? I haven't seen Paul yet today, if that's what you're worried about."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know, I'm just worried he'll try something. He didn't seem to have finished what he wanted to yesterday."

"You're really not hurt bad, are you?" Jeremy asked quietly. "You probably should have gone to the school nurse after that fall."

"I'm fine, I've had worse," Sam assured him, though winced at the thought of his bruised back which had stiffened overnight. "Besides, she would have called Dean and he can't know. Hopefully this will be over soon."

"Are you gonna take on Paul again? For good this time?" the redheaded boy asked, his eyes wide.

Sam shook his head. "Only if I have to. I would rather not, but if he won't leave well enough alone…" he was cut off by the bell ringing, and turned back to his friend with a small forced smile. "Come on, let's just get this over with. Maybe nothing will happen."

Unfortunately, that hope was to be unfounded. Nothing happened in the first few periods, in fact, Sam was surprised that he hadn't even seen Paul or his cronies that day, but as soon as the lunch bell rang, and he and Jeremy made their way to the cafeteria, things started to heat up fast.

They were just putting their books away in their lockers when Sam was suddenly shoved from behind and slammed painfully into his locker. He came back around, seeing Dave with a sneer on his face.

"It's war, Winchester, don't think we didn't warn you." And then he shoved Jeremy for good measure, partly knocking the slight-figured boy off his feet.

"Jerks," Jeremy growled after Dave who ran off to join Paul in the cafeteria, the bigger boy glared at Sam warningly before he went in for lunch. Sam stared after him for a long moment, his stomach plummeting as he knew this whole situation was far, far from over. He turned to Jeremy as he slammed his locker shut.

"Come on, forget them for now. Let's just get through the day, then if Paul's so determined to have a fight, I'll give him one."

"Sam, you shouldn't," Jeremy said worriedly, running to catch up with the other boy as he strode into the cafeteria. "I'm really worried about what Paul might do to you!"

"I just want this over with, Jeremy, and I don't think he can hurt me if I don't want him to," Sam told him truthfully. He wasn't trying to boast—he wasn't his brother, after all—but he had already been able to tell Paul had hardly any training in the art of hand-to-hand combat like Sam had for years now. His father and Dean were hard taskmasters, and his training had been born of a necessity of survival, not a want to hurt people like Paul and his brother.

Jeremy sighed, but looked worried still. Sam hoped he looked more composed than he felt, because he was a mess of nerves inside. He could hardly eat, especially knowing that the class after lunch was Math and Paul was in that class. Remembering what had happened the day before, he made sure to keep an eye on Jeremy when he could, but they split for the last class and as Sam ran out to gather his things and find his friend, he found Paul and his cronies instead, blocking his path to the lockers.

"Well, Winchester? Are you gonna try your hand at avenging Princess Jeremy's honor?" Paul asked in a mocking tone, fluttering his eyelashes.

"Get out of my way, Paul," Sam told him firmly, not shoving him, just standing there and waiting patiently.

"No, you think you're so tough, you can prove it." He shoved Sam in the chest and the smaller boy staggered back a step even though he did everything he could to keep his balance. He didn't let it faze him though, and kept his eyes locked with Paul's, staring him down and forcing himself to not be nervous anymore.

"Fine, but if we're doing this, it's not going to be in the hall where everyone can see. Meet out back behind the gym."

"Fine," Paul said with a shrug. "Makes no difference to me where I pound you into the ground. But if you try to pull a fast one and don't show, I will promise to make your life miserable from now on. Freak."

Sam set his jaw, and turned as Paul headed away. He quickly stashed his things in his locker as Jeremy ran up, looking pale. Several other kids had heard the confrontation and were talking about the coming fight, heading out toward the gym where it would take place. Sam took a deep breath. He didn't want this to be a spectacle, but it was what it was now, and he couldn't back down or the situation would only get worse. He had to nip it in the bud now. Well, at least kick Paul on his butt.

"Sam, are you really doing this?" Jeremy asked him, grabbing his sleeve as he closed his locker and made to start down the hall.

"Don't stop me," Sam told him.

"What about Dean, he'll be here…"

"Dean isn't gonna know, and if you tell him—" Sam warned his friend.

Jeremy held his hands up. "No, man, I'm not telling him. I just don't want to see you get beaten into the ground. You know Paul won't play fair."

"He won't get a chance," Sam told him and hurried down the hall and out to the chosen fighting ground.

He almost didn't make it out the door. Paul tried to ambush him as expected, and he ducked just in time for Paul's fist to hit the door instead of his face. It would have laid him out flat, but he thanked his father and brother for drilling those natural reflexes into him. Jeremy and the rest of the crowd that had gathered gasped, and Paul's cronies laughed until their leader shot them a dirty glare. Sam drew Paul out into the center of the circle that had formed and crouched in a fighting stance. He didn't taunt, he didn't say anything, he just readied for when Paul came at him.

And the big boy did, confused and maybe a bit unnerved by Sam's solid stance. He swung another fist at the younger Winchester and Sam ducked, coming up under the swing and delivering one into Paul's stomach. The big boy grunted, and doubled over, winded as Sam skipped back a step and readied for the next onslaught. It wasn't long in coming, for Paul was angry now. The other students who had gathered were laughing at him and cheering for Sam. Paul's cronies weren't doing much to stop it either, just watching their leader to see if he would come out the victor.

Paul growled and threw himself at Sam, swinging several punches one after the other, one of them hitting Sam in the shoulder and knocking him off balance. Paul, seeing this, leveled another blow to Sam's face, and his head jerked back, a cut forming across his cheekbone. There was a gasp from the crowd, but Sam righted himself and threw several punches of his own at Paul. Two short ones to his stomach and then a strong right hook to his face. Paul staggered back, wiping blood from under his nose. He sneered at the smaller boy, clenching his fists.

"Come on, freak! You can do better than that! Show me what you got!"

Sam didn't oblige him, just standing there, waiting. He was not going to allow himself to be goaded by the bully. Paul, as typical of his kind, got impatient from waiting and ran at Sam with a yell; he swung hard, caught Sam in the ribs and sent the smaller boy to his knees with a gasp. But just when Paul thought his opponent was down, Sam kicked up at the back of his knee, making him drop hard, and when he fell, leveling another right hook to his jaw. Paul lunged at him, but Sam had regained his feet, throwing several punches into Paul's stomach and ribs, finishing with a hard one to the solar plexus that left Paul gasping for breath. He then threw another punch to Paul's jaw, and then kicked him in the back of the leg again, throwing him backward with enough momentum to cause the bully to sprawl on his back, winded and completely defeated.

Sam stood over him, seeing Paul trying to get his breath back, and glaring at the smaller boy.

"Don't ever mess with my friends again," Sam told him and turned and walked off through the cheering crowd. They started throwing insults at Paul, and the big boy tried to haul himself up, sobbing for breath, angry, but embarrassed, defeated. Jeremy ran to catch up to Sam, looking in awe.

"Dude, I don't even believe what I just saw! You totally wiped the floor with him!"

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't see it as a victory, just another reminder of how different he was. What a freak he was compared with the other kids.

But that wasn't the only problem he had either. After he had collected his books and Jeremy gave him a paper towel to wipe the blood off his face, he went toward the school exit and saw the real issue of the moment.

How on earth was he going to explain this to Dean?


	4. Chapter 4

**Here you go, onto chapter four! Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed already, I always appreciate hearing what you think :) I hope you continue to enjoy this story, Sam's troubles are far from over. Hope everyone has been having a good weekend so far!**

Chapter Four

"What the hell happened to you?"

That was the first thing Dean said when he caught sight of his brother and Jeremy coming out of the school. Sam had tried to clean the blood off his face, but there was still a cut on his cheek and some bruising, and his knuckles were split and raw. He knew he was in for it when he came out and saw Dean waiting for him, leaning against the Impala with his arms folded impatiently over his chest. When Dean saw the state his younger brother was in, he lurched upright and grabbed him by the front of the jacket, Sam trying all the time not to wince as he demanded answers.

"That bully problem I told you about? Well it's over, nothing to worry about," Sam told him and shrugged away from his grip, opening the car door and throwing his bag inside.

"Um, no," Dean said with a humorless chuckle, grabbing the back of his brother's jacket and whipping him around to face him. This time Sam wasn't able to conceal a wince and Dean's face was one of concern and anger fighting for the top spot.

"Damn it, Sammy, I thought you said you were the one who didn't want to make a scene?"

"Yeah, well, you're the one who always told me I have to deal with bullies," Sam shot back at him.

Dean noticed Jeremy awkwardly standing to one side and turned to him. "You need a ride home?" he asked.

"No," Jeremy said quietly. "My mom's picking me up."

"Good, 'cause I need to have a talk with my brother. Get in the car, Sam," Dean told him.

Sam sighed deeply and looked back at Jeremy.

"Thanks, Sam," the redheaded boy told him. "And I'm sorry if you get flayed for this."

Sam shrugged. "Don't worry about it unless I'm not as school tomorrow."

"Sam!" Dean yelled, in no mood for argument.

"Bye," Sam told his friend and got into the car quickly. Dean pulled away from the curb and drove angrily back to their room. Sam waited for the lecture but it didn't come until they had gotten back to the motel. Dean threw his keys angrily onto the table as Sam slunk in behind him. Dean sat back against the tabletop and folded his arms over his chest, waiting.

"Talk," he said firmly.

"Dean," Sam began with a sigh, dropping his backpack on the floor.

"No, just tell me why, I don't want excuses," Dean growled.

"He was picking on Jeremy and I decided to teach him a lesson so he wouldn't do it again. You would have done the same."

Dean was angry, and Sam knew he shouldn't have said that, but his brother didn't say anything else, he seemed to mull it over, and of course, he knew Sam was right. "You know I'm not angry about that, Sammy, I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I do, Dean, come on!" Sam said angrily, hating that he was always the 'little brother'. When would Dean ever see that he could actually take care of himself?

"Sam, don't start this now, you know what I mean. How were you to know he didn't have a bunch of kids ready to jump you, you could have gotten really hurt and then what? I would have had to tell Dad. He would tan both our hides for that and you know it!"

Sam clenched his sore fists angrily. "I can take care of myself, I'm not a baby! Maybe you can just give me a chance once in a while. I know what I can and can't do, and Paul was something I could handle. He was just a run of the mill bully, not like I haven't had trouble with them before." He tried to go off to his room, when Dean stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"What?" Sam asked bad-temperedly.

"Let me see," Dean told him firmly.

"See what?" Sam asked, though he knew well enough. This was what he had been dreading.

"Take your shirt off, I want to see the damage."

Sam shrugged his hand off, throwing his arms out. "You see the damage. He hardly touched me besides my face. Maybe a tap to the shoulder." It wasn't a lie, those were the worst injuries he had sustained that day. "My hands hurt worse than anything right now. Trust me, he's a lot worse off than I am."

"Humor me," Dean told him, unmoved.

"No," Sam said firmly. "I'm not going to strip off for you, Dean. If you don't think I can handle myself better in a fight than that, then you're the one to blame; you and Dad taught me! There's nothing there, now leave me alone. I just want to take a shower, then if you really want to do something you can put an ice pack on my hands."

Dean looked like he was going to protest, but he seemed to x-ray his brother's body with his eyes and when he didn't see any limping or blood, he gave him the pass, thankfully. The last thing Sam needed was for him to see the week-old bruises. That would go over really well with the mood Dean was already in.

"Fine," the elder Winchester said with a grunt.

"Thank you," Sam told him and went to take his shower as he had hoped. Thankfully, his older injuries hadn't been exacerbated too much by the fight; he was still sore, but that was to be expected. He would only have to worry if Paul had hit that spot on his back again, but it was actually feeling better. He unfortunately couldn't say the same for his hands for the knuckles were swelling and the left side of his face was stiffening. He would likely have a black eye in the morning.

When he had finished his shower, he came back out, reluctantly to his brother. He didn't want to see Dean right now, but he knew that he had to get this over with. Besides, it was all his fault really. He just couldn't seem to ever be able to hold on to a normal existence, no matter how hard he tired. Not that he regretted stepping up for Jeremy and standing up to Paul, but sometimes he just wished he didn't have to be the only one. The freak.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, his head resting in his hands. Sam stopped before going past the patrician into the kitchen, suddenly feeling bad. He hadn't really considered Dean's part in all this, apart from the fact that he would be royally pissed with him—like Dean hadn't had enough fights in school. The difference was, Dean didn't get caught, and Dad never got mad at Dean for getting into fights. A bit of a reprimand was all he got for that. It was like it was just a part of Dean's character that John didn't like but acknowledged as something that was just going to happen and wasn't anything to get angry about if he didn't get caught by the police. But when Sam got into fights, both of them got run through the wringer for it. Sam for causing trouble, and Dean for letting it happen on his watch. Sam knew he could be a bit of a firebrand at times; the last few years had been particularly hard, he and his dad continually butting heads, and he knew it wore on Dean, and in truth, his older brother was the only reason he didn't do it more often. Didn't run away and never look back; he had certainly been tempted on more than one occasion. If their dad heard about this, he knew it would be Dean who got the brunt of the blame and he wasn't okay with that, nor was he going to let that happen. And he needed to reassure his brother of that fact before he beat himself up for Sam's mistake.

He took a deep breath and entered the kitchen, standing awkwardly beside his brother's chair. "Dean."

"What?" Dean grunted, leaning back in the chair with a groan, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry," Sam told him quietly, sincere this time.

Dean turned to him, shaking his head. "I just don't understand, Sammy. You don't ever pick fights. You're not like me. Hell, I'm not saying you didn't do the right thing; the asshat had what was coming to him, sure, but why you, why now? I know you're all worried about tests and all that geek crap, so why pick a fight and risk being kicked out? And I swear, if you say it's to prove yourself to me, then I will kick your ass good, Sammy."

Sam slumped into the other chair. "No, Dean, this isn't me proving myself to you. Though I wish you would see that I can take care of myself. You know this isn't your fault."

"You're my responsibility, Sam," Dean shouted, "of course it's my fault!"

"No, it's not," Sam ground out as he hit the table with his sore fist, forcing Dean to look at him. "Dean, you always look after me, and you always take the fall for what I do from Dad, and I can't let you do that anymore. I'm not saying you have to stop looking after me, I always feel secure knowing you have my back, but you've got to let me deal with my own problems, especially when I cause them myself. Please, just…just give it a rest for a while. I just want to get through this semester of school without any more problems, and if Dad finds out, he'll take us away as soon as he gets back."

"Aw, Sammy," Dean sighed, putting his face in his hands again. "You know I'm never gonna stop looking after you, even if you hate me for it."

"I know," Sam said forcing a small smile. "That's why you're so annoying."

Dean glared at him. "Fine, so if I let you handle things from now on, do you promise not to get in trouble or get hurt?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said in exasperation. "I know what I'm doing."

"And you promise to tell me if things start going downhill?"

Again, Sam nodded. "Yes, I promise."

"Fine," Dean said then added, "And I won't tell Dad if you don't."

Sam chuckled dryly. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to do."

Dean got up and went to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before taking it to Sam and pressing it over his bruised knuckles. Sam winced and he felt a familiar, comforting hand on the back of his neck, squeezing briefly.

"You sure you're good?" Dean asked.

Sam gave him a longsuffering look. "Yes, jerk, I'm fine."

"Bitch," Dean replied fondly, seeing the truce for what it was. He ruffled Sam's hair before going to grab him some Tylenol. "For what it's worth, you did good, Sammy."

"Thanks, but I'm not really proud of it," Sam sighed as he took his pills dutifully.

"It will pay out in the long run," Dean assured him. "The kid won't be likely to hurt anyone else now that you took him down a few pegs."

Sam didn't reply. Sure, he was glad Paul had been put in his place, but still, he hated that he had to be the one to do it. And he was worried that the school would find out. He had hurt Paul pretty badly. Not bad enough to need a hospital, but still enough to make his sore for a few days. It wasn't something he usually took pleasure in, but thinking of him slamming Jeremy against the lockers when this thing had all started, tripping the unpopular kids, he didn't really regret what he had done. Anyway, it was over now—at least he hoped it was—so he could move on.

* * *

_Unfortunately, the next day at _school, he was proven wrong about that. He had Dean drive him there early, hoping to get a little extra studying done in the library before the tests that day, but was stopped as soon as he came into the school by the vice principal, and she did not look happy.

"Mr. Winchester, would you come with me to Mr. Conners' office?"

Sam had little choice but to obey, and nodded obediently, following the middle-aged woman to the dreaded principal's office. It wouldn't be the first time he had been in this position, even though he was usually a good student. As Dean liked to say, crap just seemed to follow them, and he was not wrong.

He didn't have to wait either, which was not a good sign, he was ushered straight into the small office and the door was shut behind him, leaving him with the stern-looking Mr. Conners, a man with greying hair and what seemed to be a permanent scowl, but that might have just been Sam's imagination, which had decided to be very pessimistic that day.

"Mr. Sam Winchester, have a seat."

Sam sat gingerly, trying to seem as small as possible, though he felt his visible bruises screaming attention and surreptitiously hid his bruised knuckles between his knees.

"Do you know why you're here, Sam?" Mr. Conners asked, his voice level.

Of course he knew, but was he going to say it? He did nod though.

"I think you would be glad to hear that Paul Davis has no crippling injuries after your altercation yesterday afternoon," the principal continued, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the desk in front of him.

Sam looked up at him. He held the man's gaze for a moment before Mr. Conners asked, "Why did you beat Paul, Sam?"

This one had to be answered. "He wouldn't leave me and my friends alone. He wanted a fight, and I just obliged him."

Mr. Conners did not seem amused by his answer. "Paul says that you simply beat him and brought him to derision in front of the other students. I am a fair man, so I like to hear both sides of the case. I do agree that he is a bit, well, he's had a few issues in the past, and I have no doubt that he had a big part to play in this. But we do not beat other students, Mr. Winchester."

"I didn't want to, sir," Sam told him truthfully. "But he wouldn't stop. And I didn't beat him, sir, it was a fair fight."

Mr. Conners looked at him levelly as if trying to decide how best to reply to that and ending up deciding against saying anything. "Did he hurt you before?"

Sam didn't answer. He wasn't going to be a rat, not for his own sake. He just met the principal's gaze coolly, not giving anything away.

Mr. Conners sighed. "It would be easier if you would just cooperate, Sam. Will you submit to an examination from the school nurse?"

"I would rather not, sir. I'm fine. Only a few bruises," Sam said, squirming. He was not going to allow himself to get poked and prodded and fussed over that was for sure.

Mr. Conners pursed his lips. "I find it hard to believe, Sam—and I don't mean to offend you—that you would come out of a fight with Paul Davis with only a few bruises. He's on the school wrestling team. I would imagine you would have to know a bit about fighting technique yourself to be able to beat him as you did and come out so unscathed."

Sam's heart started to pound. This was exactly the kind of thing that made his dad so angry. They were supposed to be under the radar, and this was the kind of thing that raised red flags. He forced nonchalance and shrugged. "I just got lucky, I guess."

Mr. Conners watched him for a long moment, and Sam fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. Finally, the principal leaned back in his chair. "Well, view this as a warning, Mr. Winchester. I will have no more fighting between students on school grounds. If it happens again, I will have to take drastic measures, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said, relieved that this questioning seemed to be nearly over now.

"Very good. Now you have a test today, so you had best leave."

Sam hurried from the office and ran to his locker. He found Jeremy just as the bell rang.

"I'll talk to you later," he promised as they ran off to make their classes.

Oddly, he felt a huge weight lift from his chest as he sat down at his desk and opened his books. The whole thing seemed to be over now, and he finally felt like he could be getting back to his life again, as normal as that ever was.

If only he hadn't been so wrong in that assumption.


	5. Chapter 5

**More brotherly angst in this chapter, don't worry, things will start to pick up again in chapter six. Thanks to all my reviewers, it always makes me so happy to read your reviews :) I hope you continue to enjoy. Have a good weekend!**

Chapter Five

Nothing happened that day. Sam went to class and forced all thoughts of Paul and his visit with Principal Conners that morning from his mind and simply concentrated on his tests, and thought he had done pretty well too. He knew for certain Paul hadn't come to school that day by the time he and Jeremy got to lunch; there was no sign of the bully there in the cafeteria, and his shadows sat sullenly in the corner of the room, staring balefully at the younger Winchester. Sam ignored them, knowing they weren't going to cause problems anymore.

The whole school had definitely made Sam Winchester their hero, however, which he was not entirely thrilled with. Even if it did result in some of the hottest girls in the school saying hi to him. Dean would have eaten it up, but Sam didn't like to be recognized, especially for something that should have been done anyway on principle. He might have done what he had to do, but he hadn't enjoyed having to teach Paul a lesson. Well, okay, maybe he had taken a little satisfaction from it. He was human, after all, and he did have an overbearing sense of justice.

But the day wasn't over, and the last test of the day was math, which he felt confident about and after that, he and Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief as they gathered their things from their lockers at the end of the day.

"Dude, I am so glad that's over," Jeremy told him in relief. "This was the hardest test of the year, and with everything else. Seriously, man, things have never been so interesting until you got here."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, problems seem to follow me no matter how hard I try. I'm glad someone finds it entertaining."

Jeremy grinned. "You wanna come for dinner tonight?"

Sam hesitated, really wanting to, but knowing Dean would probably want him home. "I'd love to, but I don't want to press things with Dean right now. Maybe next week?"

"Sure," Jeremy said understandingly. "Was he really angry?"

Sam shrugged. "Not any more than usual. He just thinks he's the only one who can look after me, that's all, and when something happens to prove him otherwise, he doesn't like it."

"You really aren't hurt though, are you?" Jeremy asked quietly.

Sam forced down his annoyance. "No, Jeremy, I'm fine, I promise."

"Good. Now let's get out of here."

They moved off but Sam was suddenly buffeted from behind by someone passing. It jarred his bruises and made him wince, turning around with a scowl to see who it was.

Dave and his friend stared at him, smirking.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"You are so gonna pay, Winchester," Dave told him. "For what you did to Paul."

"Yeah, whatever," Sam told him. "You like to talk big, don't you, Dave?"

Dave shrugged, but he didn't stop smirking. "Think what you like, freak, whether you see it coming or not, doesn't make a difference to me."

They left, and Sam and Jeremy looked at each other. Jeremy frowned.

"What was that all about?"

Sam shook his head and readjusted his backpack on his shoulder. "They just like to seem like they aren't useless jerks. Trust me, Paul isn't going to try anything again. Not now that the whole school has seen him like that."

Sam sincerely hoped that was the case anyway, and that he hadn't really horribly underestimated Paul. He just didn't read him as the kind of person who persisted past a certain point, especially if it offered no personal gain. Still, there was an odd nagging in his gut that he had been trying to ignore, knowing it was just instinctive caution that his dad had bred into him, but finding it hard to tramp down.

Dean was waiting outside for him and Sam rolled his eyes with the thought that he had probably been there long before the bell rang. Sam said goodbye to Jeremy and went to the Impala, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Hey, Dean," he said.

"Hey."

Just the tone of his voice made Sam turn, and as soon as he caught sight of his brother's face, his heart sank. Something had happened, and he had a good idea of what that had been.

"So anything you want to tell me?" Dean asked nonchalantly as he started the engine, and drove back to the apartment.

Sam didn't answer the question. He didn't have to. "Dean—"

"Why did I get a call from the principal?" his brother asked him.

Sam closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat. "I don't know how he found out."

"Yeah," Dean peeled out around a corner. "I wonder, Sam. Man, do you know how bad this could have been? How bad it still could be?" He pulled into the apartment complex parking lot and reached over to grip Sam's sleeve, forcing him to meet his eyes. "If they had been able to get ahold of Dad, do you realize the crapload of trouble we'd both be in then? And it would be even worse since he's not here, they could ship us off to a foster home or something." He was shaking, and Sam knew it wasn't all from anger. The thought of that sent shivers down his own spine. He wouldn't be the one to cause that to happen.

"Dean, it really wasn't as bad at it sounded," he began quietly. "Conners just talked to me, and I think he was sort of on my side too. He gave me a warning; they just have to call parents or guardians because it's protocol. Sometimes people don't want anyone talking to their kids, it doesn't mean the situation was worse. But really, Dean, this wasn't the first time Paul had done something like that. Conners seemed more concerned that I might have injuries."

"And do you?" Dean asked with scrutiny. "Because, honestly, Sam, if you lie to me again…"

"Dean, I'm all right. Trust me, I'm not stupid, I know the difference between bruises and bad injuries." He sighed deeply before he turned back to his brother. "I'm sorry, Dean, I never wanted any of this to happen. It just happened."

Dean snorted. "You realize it's because you're the good kid, right? No one cared when I got into a fight at school, it was expected of me, teachers stopped bothering. It's different for you because it's unexpected, it's not part of your character and so when you snap people think something's wrong with you."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm a freak," Sam said bitterly.

"Hey," Dean said and gripped his shoulder. "You're not a freak, Sammy." He slumped. "Come on, let's go inside and get something to eat. I'm starving, and you don't have to study today."

Sam opened the door and grabbed his backpack. "I really am sorry, though, Dean," he said quietly.

Dean shook his head. "Let's just keep this to ourselves and everything should be fine as long as you don't run off and beat anyone else up. Dad doesn't have to hear about this, so let's keep it that way."

"Deal," Sam agreed, relived that Dean wasn't angry with him. He understood his concern and knew it was well founded, but he still wished it didn't have to be that way. It was too much to live like that all the time. Why couldn't anything just be normal and uncomplicated?

They made a snack and Sam sat and read while Dean watched TV on the other side of the couch. It was a quiet moment, helping Sam to relax after everything that had happened in the last couple weeks.

Finally, Dean stretched and turned the TV off. "How about we go out for dinner tonight?"

"I don't know that I did a good job on my tests yet," Sam told him.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever, we'll still get ice cream if you do. I just want to get out of here."

Sam nodded in agreement and went to grab his jacket. "Hey, you still owe me a movie too, if I get A's."

Dean snorted. "Fine, greedy. But that comes later. Right now, I need me a burger, and some pie."

Sam grinned as he followed Dean out to the car and they drove to a diner down the street. The motherly waitress sat them at a booth and took their orders. Sam finally started to relax; this was normal. Moments like these with Dean were good, his normal, and he decided he really was okay with that. Any of the moments where they were like a family—if not a normal apple pie family, then at least not hunting monsters and worrying about crazy stuff that normal people never thought about as a problem. It felt good.

Their food arrived and they dug in, enjoying the treat. Dean had even ordered them chocolate shakes to go with their burgers, a little indulgence that they enjoyed every once in a while.

Sam was enjoying his food when he noticed Dean casting furtive glances across the diner. Sam stopped eating instantly, noting his brother's tense frame.

"What is it?" he asked, ready for anything.

"You know those guys?" Dean asked him, flicking his eyes over to a table a little bit away from theirs where three young men, about Dean's age sat. One caught Sam looking and held his gaze for a moment before Sam turned his own down as if he hadn't meant to look in their direction.

"I've never seen any of them," Sam replied honestly, a frown furrowing his brow. "Are they watching us?"

Dean cast another glance, this one pointed and warning before turning back to Sam. "Either they're checking you out, Samantha, or they've got something else going."

"Have you been messing with people's girlfriends again, Dean?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean had the grace to look offended. "Dude, it's not my fault if girls like me better than their run of the mill boyfriends. I have never stolen anyone on purpose." He frowned. "Of course, it would be nice if they would tell me they had one who might come after my ass."

Sam snorted. "Whatever, it's probably nothing. You're just jumpy."

Dean made a face at him as the waitress came over with their check.

"Anything else, hun?" she asked Dean as she gathered their plates.

"I think we're good," he told her with a smile and reached for his wallet. "Come on, Sammy, let's get going."

They left the diner and Sam happened to look back just once at the three men and saw them watching him leave. A shiver of unease went up his spine. Now that he thought about it, one of them looked a little bit familiar, but not enough to raise any red flags. Maybe he had just seem them around school. He still wasn't entirely sure they weren't keeping an eye on Dean. Situations like that had certainly happened before when guys didn't exactly understand that their girlfriends had left them of their own volition, and even if they had, jealousy still ran rampant.

Sam went to take a shower when they got back to the apartment, and when he came back put, he heard Dean arguing on the phone, likely with John. His stomach twisted, wondering if maybe their dad had somehow heard about his fight; maybe the school had gotten ahold of him after all. But as he went into the kitchen and heard the tail end of the conversation, he realized it was a different matter entirely.

"Are you sure no one else can take it? Yeah, I know…I understand, Dad, but I don't know how long it would take and I don't want to leave Sammy alone…yeah, I….yes, sir. Okay, fine, I'll leave tonight."

He snapped his phone shut with a curse and turned around to see Sam standing there.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"A new case popped up a few towns over. Dad's still elbow deep in the hunt he's on so he can't take it. I'm going to have to run over there. It shouldn't take too long, sounds like a simple salt and burn."

"I'll come with you," Sam offered.

Dean shook his head. "Don't know if I'll be back before Monday. You shouldn't miss school now, not while you're on their black list." He smiled tiredly. "I'll be fine. Maybe you can do some research for me here."

Sam hesitated, wanting to protest, but he knew Dean was right. It stung, Dean being the responsible one, but he did realize that if he missed school or came back with even more bruises if the hunt went bad, it could raise red flags and they didn't need any more of those right now.

"All right, I'll stay. You have to leave tonight?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted, already grabbing his bag and packing it. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Plus, can't have the ghost icing any more people." He went into their room and packed a couple changes of clothes. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Be good, you know the drill. And don't get into any fights, all right?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I know. Be safe, jerk."

"Always, bitch." Dean grinned and gave him a salute as he went out the door.

Sam sighed and slumped on the couch to read, feeling alone. At least everything was over apart from finding out his test scores, and he had the weekend to look forward to to get some relaxing in. He just wished he could shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, first off, I'm just going to say sorry in advance for this chapter. And I promise to get another one up this weekend as well, so you won't have to wait a whole week for the next one. Don't kill me. **

**Warning: violence **

Chapter Six

The next morning he slept late and it felt so good he didn't want to get up when he was woken at ten by the phone ringing and fumbled to snatch it and answer the call.

"Hello?" he mumbled, laying back down and throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Still asleep at this hour, Sammy?" Dean's voice teased from the other end. "Good, actually decided to become a normal teenager."

Sam groaned. "What do you want? You comin' home?"

"Nah, not yet," Dean said. "Still got some work to do. I was just checking in, seeing how you were doing. Maybe you could run to the library to do some research for me if you want later? I could use the help. You're always better at researching than I am."

"That's 'cause you don't spend enough time on it."

"You know me, Sammy, just looking at dusty old books gives me the shudders." Dean gave him several names and things to look up and then ended the call with, "Remember to eat and no wild parties. I'll try to be back by Monday if everything goes well. Be responsible."

"Yeah, I got it," Sam told him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with a groan. "I'll call you later with what I found."

"Love you too, little brother," Dean told him before he hung up. Sam yawned and cracked his neck. On the bright side, his bruises felt less painful today, which was a good thing. Now he just had to see if there was any breakfast.

He was eating some cereal when another phone call came and he answered it with a frown, wondering who it would be.

"Hey, Sam, it's Jeremy," came the voice on the phone.

"Oh, hey, Jeremy," Sam greeted. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go have lunch with me and some of the guys from school today. We're going to the pizza parlor on Eighth Street and then going to hang out at the park and play some basketball or something."

"That sounds like fun, when are we meeting?"

"Around 12:30. Can Dean drive you or do you need a ride?"

"Dean left last night, so I guess I'll need to catch a ride, if that's okay."

"Sure, my dad will swing by, we're picking up Rick too. See you then."

Sam finished his breakfast and then got dressed and sat and read until it was time for Jeremy to get there. He snagged some of the money from their supply and grabbed his notes from Dean, figuring he would head to the library after he finished with the guys.

Jeremy's dad swung by the apartment around noon and dropped them off at the pizza parlor. Sam found it was so easy to relax around Jeremy and his friends; there was no obligations, nothing life-endangering to worry about, and no Dean to make sure he wasn't going to get eaten by a monster or kidnapped, or whatever it was that worried is big brother constantly about his safety. He was just Sam, a high school kid out for pizza and laughing and joking with his friends. It felt amazing.

The park was right across the street, and after they had finished their lunch, they went over there to play basketball. Sam hadn't played for a while, but he was naturally good at sports, thanks to all the training he had done. This was so much more enjoyable than his dad's exercise regimen though.

Before he knew it, it was nearing three o'clock and Jeremy's dad was back to pick them up.

"Need a ride back, Sam?" Jeremy asked.

"Actually, I need to go to the library to do some research. The apartment's really not that far, I can walk back."

"Are you sure?" Jeremy asked with a frown.

"Yeah, I'm good with walking," Sam assured him with a grin.

"We can at least drop you at the library."

Sam shrugged. "Alright, that would be okay." He followed Jeremy to his dad's car and turned back around to wave to the other guys. As he did, he caught sight of three boys on another basketball court further away and thought they looked slightly familiar. One turned around and seemed to be looking right at him. Sam frowned, a sick feeling in his stomach, as he recognized him as the guy who had been in the diner the night before; the one Dean had been sure was watching them. Now it seemed the same thing was happening.

"Sam, you coming?" Jeremy called, and Sam realized he had stopped. He shook himself and hurried off, deciding he was just paranoid. Hoping he was.

Jeremy's dad dropped him off at the library after making sure he would be able to get home, and Sam went to the periodicals to do research for Dean, grabbing several books on the way that should also be of help.

He looked for a couple hours, made notes, and decided he would call Dean when he got back to the apartment. It was nearly five o'clock and the library was about to close. He yawned, thinking a cup of coffee would be a good idea. Then he'd have to find something he could eat for dinner, hoping Dean had left him something in their fridge.

He gathered his notes and tucked them into his jacket before leaving the library. He started walking down the street when he caught sight of those three men he had seen earlier across the street. He tried to pretend he didn't notice them as they kept pace with him on the other side of the street, but he reached into his jacket and clasped the hilt of his knife. There was something about those boys that he didn't like at all. They looked like trouble, and he wasn't going to be taken unaware.

He took several turns that he didn't need to, checking to see if they were really following him, and when he saw them still on his tail and worse, gaining, he knew they really were after him. Now he just had to shake them.

But then as he turned down another side street, he realized too late that he had cornered himself in a bad place, and before he could get out, the three men blocked the entrance he had just come through.

"Winchester?" one asked, a broadly built blond boy around Dean's age who had the air of a jock.

Sam's heart dropped. "How do you know me?"

The boy just sneered and the three of them stepped forward, backing Sam against a wall. He eased backward, his hand tightening around his knife. As the blond jock lunged forward at him, he pulled the knife and the boy stopped with a laugh.

"You think that will do anything, Winchester?" he taunted.

Sam forced a Dean-worthy smile onto his lips. "Why don't you try me and find out?"

Something slammed into the back of his head and he was on his face before he knew what had happened. The knife slid from his hand, and there was a foot on the back of his neck, the three boys rushing forward to restrain him. He felt his hands tied behind his back and his ankles as well. A piece of cloth was jammed into his mouth and to top it off, a sack thrown over his head.

"Who's the tough guy now, freak?"

That voice Sam knew, but before he could think of what it implied he was hit again and everything went totally black.

* * *

_He woke up slowly_, sick to his stomach and having a hard time breathing. He moaned, but his mouth was stuffed with a rag. He maneuvered his dry tongue until it pushed the rag from his mouth and that helped a little, but he was still blind, and the confines of the bag over his head made him claustrophobic. He wriggled around, trying to work that loose too, but his arms and legs were tied, and he was curled up in a cramped position. It took him a few moments through fighting his panic to realize he was in the trunk of a car. How long he had been out, and how long they had been driving, he didn't know. He could still feel his hands a bit, so he figured it hadn't been so long that they had totally lost all feeling. Half an hour tops, but probably not even that long. It was a testament to his crazy life that he even knew that.

He felt the car stop, and heard the muffled sounds of doors closing before the trunk was opened and he felt fresh air wash around him. Several pairs of hands reached down and grabbed him, hauling him out and dropping him unceremoniously onto the ground, not seeming eager to untie his legs so he could walk. He wiggled, trying to loosen the bindings, but a foot thudded into his ribs, making him curl up and cough.

"Stop struggling, Winchester, we'll get to you soon."

He was hauled to his feet again and drug several feet before the bag was pulled from his head. He squinted in the sudden light, even though it was evening, and blinked as he realized they were on the sports field outside the school. So they weren't that far after all. Then he took note of his captors, one in particular, that he could put a name to.

Paul looked awful and that was from someone who knew bruises. Sam hadn't realized just how much damage he had done to the boy and began to feel bad about it. Well, he might have if he hadn't been knocked out and stuffed in a trunk. He was still a little confused from the hit to his head, because he was only then able to start making sense of what exactly was going on. Especially when the blond jock stood up from bending over the trunk of the car Sam had been in previously, and went to stand next to Paul. He now knew why the boy had looked somewhat familiar and his stomach knotted at the realization. This must be Paul's older brother, Chris, the one Jeremy had said nearly beat rival football players to death.

"I bet you're wondering why we're doing this, Winchester," Chris said and Sam decided to stay quiet, held between the two other boys. One of them bent to cut the bindings around his ankles and he stomped his feet, getting blood back into them; his arms they left bound. Paul watched with a sly smirk and Sam snarled at him.

"You beat up my little brother," Chris told him as if he didn't already know that.

"Yeah," Sam said, surprisingly sounding braver than he felt. "He was messing with my friends. It was a fair fight."

"You think you're tough, don't you?" Chris said. "You like to think you can come in here and take over like some smartass punk, and I've seen your brother, he's just as bad. Well, let me tell you something, freak, this is my school and I make the rules, and people have paid when they mess with things here, especially my brother."

"So, what," Sam asked, trying to channel Dean's cockiness, hoping his voice didn't quaver and betray how scared his was. "You gonna beat me down, Chris? If this is because of Paul, let him do it, prove he's a man. I'd be happy to give him a rematch and see if he could beat me this time."

Paul lunged forward but Chris stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Oh, he'll get his turn, but I go first, because no one beats up my little brother. No one. Especially not some punkass kid who's only been here a month."

Sam made his move then, letting them know they shouldn't have untied his legs. He stomped hard on the foot of the boy on his right and then kicked backwards into the knee of the other, making him go down with a howl. Then Sam turned back to the other boy and headbutted him under the chin, causing his head to snap back as Sam delivered a kick to the groin. He was about to round on Chris when something slammed into his legs and he fell hard of his front, his feet knocked straight out from under him. Sam gasped, struggling up when he felt a foot press into the center of his back and keep him down. He flicked his eyes up as the end of a baseball bat planted itself in front of his face. Chris crouched down and smiled at him nastily.

"Now to teach you a lesson, Winchester."

Sam gave one last yank on the ropes around his wrists and felt them give. He rolled onto his back and reached up to catch the bat as it swung down onto him. Chris growled and yanked the bat up, taking Sam's light frame with him, before he kicked him in the stomach, causing him to double over and then brought a swift fist down on his right wrist, numbing it so that Sam had to let go of the bat. The end smashed into the side of his jaw and he went down, trying to crawl to his feet when another blow came and smashed into his ribs. He yelped in pain, rolling over and curling up, trying to be as small as possible. Chris kicked him in the stomach several more times, until the bruised muscles screamed and Sam retched on the ground, forcing himself onto his elbows shakily to empty his stomach. The bat landed squarely across his shoulders and he fell face first onto the ground into the puddle of vomit, screaming in pain. He rolled over, trying to get away, but Chris kicked him hard in the small of his back, over and over again. Sam finally curled up and just waited for it to end. Another kick to the face. His nose crunched and blood washed over his lips and chin and poured down the back of his throat from his nose. He choked on it and spat blood onto the ground as he once again tried to make it to his feet, but it just got harder and harder each time.

The bat slammed into his ribs again and this time he felt them crack and screamed in pain. Tears streamed down his face and he huddled on the ground, his whole body singing, arms wrapped around his head and knees drawn up to protect his battered torso. A sob escaped his throat.

He cried out as he felt hands on his shoulders, dragging him up by his sleeves and saw a blurry face swim into his vision.

"Look at me, do you feel like a hero now, you little bastard?" Chris snarled at him as Sam sobbed, unable to help him. Everything hurt so bad, he had never hurt this bad in his life.

"Chris," he heard from off to the side.

Chris let him fall back to the ground and Sam yelped and sobbed harder. "Come on, little brother, it's your turn. Take a couple hits."

Sam looked up at Paul, seeing the boy staring in horror at Sam's bloody, crumped form on the ground. He looked like he was going to be sick. Chris was handing him the bat but Paul wasn't taking it. Chris sighed and grabbed Paul's hand, forcing the bat into it.

"You wanted this, Paul, your revenge. Take it. Don't let him sneer at you anymore. It will teach him a lesson."

"I didn't think it would go this far," Paul said in a hushed voice, looking young and scared. He was trembling. "Chris, what did you do?"

"I did what you couldn't, obviously," Chris sneered, squeezing his brother's hand around the bat again. "Now go."

Paul let the bat fall to the ground. "No. I didn't mean to hurt him that badly. I—I can't."

"You'll prove him right then?" Chris asked, shoving his brother angrily. "I thought I taught you better than that! Don't let anyone push you around!"

"This is beyond that!" Paul cried. "I'm not going to murder someone, Chris! You're out of your mind!"

Chris's face reddened in anger but then Sam's phone rang in his pocket. Amazingly it hadn't been crushed. Chris ran to grab it, hurting Sam's broken ribs in the process. He sneered at the phone as he threw it to the ground and smashed it with the bat. Sam felt fresh tears flow over his cheeks in despair. His last hope of rescue was gone.

"We need to go," Chris said, grabbing Paul. "We can't let anyone find us here."

"We can't leave him," Paul said then cried out as Chris hit him across the face.

"Get in the car or you can explain it to the police!" he snarled and Paul slunk after him with one last look at Sam lying on the ground.

Sam heard the engine start and watched the taillights of the car as it drove away. He sobbed and fought for breath. He choked and coughed some blood, wondering if it was from his broken nose or from some internal injury. Everything hurt too bad to tell.

"D-Dean," he whispered, fresh tears sliding down his face as he knew his brother wasn't going to come save him this time. He had been so stupid, hadn't listened to his instincts as his dad and Dean had always taught him, and now look where it had gotten him. Just trying to be normal, and it had only gotten him lying broken on a school sports field. He drug himself to his phone, hoping against all hope that it might still be working, but when he found it in pieces, he knew it wasn't. He lay back, curled on one side and watching the setting sun, the horrible feeling that he was going to die there washing over him.

His eyes closed as more tears escaped. He felt cold, everything hurt, and he was too tired to care anymore. All he wanted was Dean and he knew he couldn't have him, so he gave up, unable to deal with the pain anymore, and let himself slip into the darkness that came to claim him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Well here you go, everyone, don't want to leave you hanging any longer. Be prepared for the feels! **

Chapter Seven

It was sirens that woke him. He was at first surprised to find that he wasn't actually dead. He wasn't all there either, wasn't able to open his eyes more than a crack. He realized then that the sun was still there a bit just as it slid over the horizon, so it wasn't too long since he had fallen asleep. Voices came as well as the sound of running feet that he could feel through the ground. He didn't even know why they were there. Didn't care because it wasn't Dean or his dad, and no one else mattered to him at that moment.

"I have a body," someone said.

A figure crouched over him and fingers were pressed to his throat. He groaned, even that small pressure hurting him.

"He's alive," the man said in relief and a hand was pressed lightly, comforting, to Sam's face. "Son, are you with me?"

Sam fought to open his eyes and managed halfway, seeing a middle-aged man in a paramedic uniform crouching over him. He moaned in acknowledgement. More people were coming. The man smiled kindly and kept the hand on his face as if it would keep him awake. "We're here to help you, son. What's your name?"

Sam's tongue was so dry he could hardly speak but he forced sound out. "S-Sam," he whispered.

"Okay, Sam, now we're going to put you on a gurney, and it's going to hurt, probably pretty bad." Sam didn't bother acknowledging that and closed his eyes again as he felt more hands on him, running gently over his body to assess injuries and straightening him onto his back. Hands slid under him and someone counted to three as he was lifted onto a softer surface. He cried out as his body was jostled but a hand touched his and a woman's voice came through the darkness threatening to engulf him again.

"It's all right, Sam, we're going to get you fixed up." A blanket was tucked gently around him and he felt himself lifted and that was all he remembered then, slipping back into unconsciousness.

The next thing he woke up to was a different scene. He knew instantly that he was in a hospital; the clean smell assailed his nose and when he cracked his eyes open, he could see the white sterile walls. A doctor was cutting off his clothes to see his injuries, calling off what was wrong with him.

"Three broken ribs, concussion, major abdominal bruising and swelling—likely internal bleeding, possible torn liver or spleen judging from how bad the bruising is."

Sam gasped as fingers prodded his stomach and another pair of hands pressed him gently back and a motherly nurse smiled down at him.

"The doctor's just checking you out, Sam, trying to see what's wrong with you. Do you have someone I can call to come be with you? Your parents?"

"D-Dean," Sam managed to say, hissing in pain as the doctor continued his examination. "I n-need Dean."

"Okay, sweetie, I know it's hard but can you give me his phone number?"

Sam could hardly get it out, but the nurse wrote it down and promised to call Dean right away.

"He needs emergency surgery," the doctor said and Sam fought to make sense of that. What was even happening?

It was too much for him to think about though and he felt himself slipping away again into the darkness that had become his friend.

* * *

The next time he woke it was much slower and it took him longer to realize where he was. His eyes didn't want to open, couldn't remember how to, really, and all he was aware of was an annoying beeping sound that he wished would go away. Was it his alarm clock? Was he late for school? He tried to move, but his whole body felt like a led weight, and he couldn't even twitch a finger.

Finally, he cracked his eyes open, blinking as they were blurry. When they finally cleared, he was scared at first to find he was not in the apartment, nor in a hotel, but what seemed to be a hospital room. Why? And then memories flooded back sharply. Walking back to the apartment, and then getting taken by Paul's brother…beaten, left for dead. And then flashes after that of paramedics and doctors. How had they got there? He tried to move again, and jerked his head to one side, wincing, as he heard someone shuffling to his right.

"Hello, Sam, how are you feeling?"

He frowned, disappointed when he found a nurse there instead of Dean. The middle-aged woman smiled at him, and he thought he remembered her from earlier. She stood from the chair she had been sitting in and bent over him, checking his blankets and the various wires and IVs attached to him. Sam didn't grace her with an answer, only blinked.

"The anesthesia will take a bit to wear off," she told him kindly and patted his hand gently. "You had a tear in your liver and some bad internal bleeding, so Doctor Gregson had to do some surgery on you. You're on the mend now, though I'm sure it doesn't feel like it."

Sam frowned and cleared his throat, decided he needed answers so he needed to talk. "H-how'd I get here?" he got out.

The nurse sat down beside him again. "An anonymous person called 911 and said someone had been hurt and was at Lewis High School," she said, giving him a scrutinizing look. "I know you're hurt bad, honey, but do you know what happened? Who did this to you?"

Sam didn't say anything. He wasn't a rat. He had a good idea of who had called 911 and it wasn't exactly the same person who had beaten him to pulp even if he might have initially had a hand in it. The nurse seemed to see that he wasn't ready to talk so she smiled at him instead.

"You don't have to tell me now, but it will help bring whoever did this to justice. This is a serious matter, Sam."

Sam swallowed hard, not denying it. He knew it was serious, but he didn't want to say anything until Dean was there. He was afraid of attracting the police's attention, knowing his dad wouldn't like that at all, and he didn't know what he should do. He needed his brother. "Wh-where's Dean?" he asked instead to change the subject.

The nurse's face softened again. "Your brother? He's on his way as fast as he can. I called him as soon as you gave me his number. He said he would call your father as well. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you awake. He should be here any minute."

Sam nodded slightly. He wanted nothing more than to see his brother, but on the other hand, he was worried because he knew Dean would be so mad at him for being such an idiot. The thought tired him so much his eyes slid shut. The nurse put her hand over his.

"I'll let you rest for a while until your brother gets here, Sam. I'm Tiffany, by the way."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

He wasn't sure if she left right away because he started drifting. He wasn't really asleep, at least he didn't think he was, but he was brought out of that state by the sound of familiar footsteps running down the hall. He didn't even need to hear his voice to know who it was. The door was opened and he cracked his eyes open just in time to see his brother come into the room.

"Sammy." There were so many emotions fighting on Dean's face, worry, horror, relief, and then anger trying for the top spot but failing. But first, Dean, as usual, had to make sure Sam was all right, because no doctor in the world could convince him of that fact until Dean had looked his brother over himself.

"Dean," Sam croaked as his brother rushed to the side of his bed, his hands hovering over his body as he fought the urge to grab onto him and instead settled with putting his hands on Sam's face, one pushing the unruly hair from his eyes as he leaned over and pressed his forehead to his little's brothers. Sam could feel him trembling, the hitching of his breath as he fought his emotions and then he tore himself away and punched the wall, cursing violently. Sam closed his eyes in resignation, knowing what was coming and glad Dean was getting it over with early.

"Dean, I know you're pissed. I'm sorry," Sam said quietly.

Dean turned around with a manic chuckle. "Pissed? Sammy, that doesn't even cut it. I am colossally furious." He punched the wall again before he turned back to his brother. "Do you even know how stupid you were, Sam? Hell, if Dad were here…" he left that hanging, shaking his head and running a furious hand over his hair, clutching it into disarray before clenching his fists at his sides. "Why didn't you tell me, Sam?! Why didn't you tell me things were this bad?"

"I didn't know," Sam whispered, fighting past the lump forming in his throat. His eyes burned. "I didn't know it would come to this."

"Sam, the nurse told me that there were older bruises under the new ones. You were beaten before, and I—hell, I didn't even see it." He ran a hand over his face angrily, turning quickly away from Sam as his shoulders jerked once before he gathered himself again and turned back to Sam, unshed tears threatening in his eyes. "To think of you lying out there all alone, busted up and…and _dying_, Sammy, oh God." He sunk into the chair and leaned over, burying his face in his hands. Sam heard his choked sob, and he couldn't take it. He reached out to Dean and grabbed a handful of his jacket.

"Please stop," he said, tears streaming down his own cheeks. "It was my fault. I should have told you everything. I'm sorry."

"That's not the point!" Dean cried. "The point it that I'm supposed to notice, because you're my little brother, you're my responsibility, and when I don't see when something is really wrong, it just…" He stopped, unable to say anything. Sam tugged on his jacket and Dean finally scooted the chair closer and Sam curled up on his side as well as he could and pressed his face against Dean's shoulder, not letting go. Dean's cheek rested on his head and his tears dripped past Sam's ear as one of his hands came up to tangle in Sam's mop of hair.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Sammy," he pleaded, and Sam didn't think he had ever heard his tough brother sound so broken, so scared. "Especially when I'm not there to take care of you. I can't take it. I can't do this again."

"I won't, I promise," Sam whispered and the two brothers just stayed there for a long time, clutching each other as if they would never let go, glad they still could.

Sam drifted off again, unable to stay awake, and he woke to Dean's low voice as he felt his blankets being turned down. He cracked his eyes open blearily and the nurse, Tiffany, smiled down at him, touching his arm gently.

"Hi, Sam, I was just talking to your brother. I'm going to take a look at your injuries and see how they're doing."

Dean watched carefully as Tiffany changed Sam's bandages, his whole body tight with pent up anger as the bruises on Sam's body were revealed. Sam didn't look, didn't want to see what he knew would be marring his flesh; Dean's pale face and fist clenching on top of his knee was enough indication of how bad it was.

"I'll bring you some soup or jello later, okay, honey?" she said to Sam as she finished up and pulled the blanket back over his shoulders before turning to Dean. "See if you can get him to drink, but only a little bit. You don't want to make him sick—throwing up is the last thing he needs right now."

"I know," Dean told her almost too quickly. It wouldn't do to know they were all too practiced with the art of treating wounds and healing. Once she had left, Dean sagged again and reached out to put a firm hand on Sam's wrist, right under the tape that help the IV in place. The warm pressure of Dean's rough fingers made Sam feel safe. He didn't like to admit it much anymore now that he was fifteen and not a child, but Dean was still the one he always wanted when he was sick or hurt, and nothing worked to calm him like the steady presence of his big brother, his protector. That was why he knew Dean was tearing himself up right now, because he hadn't been there when Sam needed him. The younger Winchester needed to make sure he knew that he didn't blame him. Not that that would really help; Dean would always blame himself for anything that happened to Sam, even if he broke his leg falling into a gopher hole, Dean would find a way to make it his fault. He smiled, almost wishing he could tease him about it, but it was too soon, and it was probably the pain medicine talking.

Dean sighed and Sam looked over at his face again, meeting his tired eyes.

"I called Dad," Dean told him simply.

Sam didn't say anything for a long time, but finally, swallowing hard, "What did he say?"

Dean shook his head slightly. "You know, he's pissed—not at you, really, not after I told him how bad…" Dean stopped and breathed in deeply, turning his face down to his hands, the bruised knuckles from hitting the wall earlier. Sam could picture the angry conversation that had ensued between John Winchester and his eldest. A flash of anger burst through Sam at that thought. No wonder Dean always blamed himself when he had their father telling him as much.

"What did he want us to do?" Sam asked hesitantly, knowing this was the real problem. John hated having to go to the hospital, using fake insurance cards and everything, of course that didn't stop it from being necessary when his boys were hurt. But this time, they couldn't write it off as a camping accident or random wolf attack; there had been a 911 call and witnesses who were anything but supernatural in nature, even if they were monsters.

"He just said to tell the truth, Sammy," Dean said, surprising him. "Which is exactly what I want, so you tell me first, and then I think we need to talk to the police about it. They'll be here eventually anyway, so we may as well face the facts."

Sam closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, knowing it was inevitable and almost feeling glad that he was going to get the whole story off his chest.

But just as he was about to begin, Nurse Tiffany came and knocked on the door before poking her head in.

"Sam, Dean, I don't want to bother you if you need to rest, but there is a visitor here to see you and he was quite insistent." She had a meaningful look in her eye that made Sam frown and Dean was already on his feet, putting himself between the door and Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean asked him.

"I'll see him," Sam replied tiredly, not really caring at the moment. No matter who walked in the door, he had Dean there, and he was too exhausted and high on morphine to care.

His guest, however, managed to surprise him all the same. Tiffany stepped to one side at his okay and revealed Paul.


	8. Chapter 8

**Almost forgot to get the chapter up tonight! This week seemed really short. Thank you so much for all the reviews, and for your patience, at least I didn't leave poor Sammy dying again ;) Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, a little reconciliation goes on. Only a couple chapters left after this!**

Chapter Eight

"Paul?" Sam asked quietly, wary.

Dean saw the bruises on Paul's face and seemed to put two and two together. He lurched forward and grabbed the younger boy by the front of his jacket. "Are you the little bastard who beat up my brother?"

"Dean, put him down," Sam called weakly, shifting slightly to lever himself up but deciding against it when the movement made his body scream and he fell back with a gasp. Dean, hearing his distress, let go of Paul and hurried to his brother's side, putting a hand to his forehead to calm him as a moan escaped. Paul looked ready to bolt, but Sam nudged Dean to one side so he could see him and called him back.

"It's okay, Paul, you can stay."

Paul stepped forward cautiously, giving Dean a wide berth. Sam turned to his brother with pleading eyes and Dean finally sighed and went around to the other side of the bed, standing there with his arms crossed as he watched Paul carefully. It was as much as he could ask for; Sam knew Dean would never leave him alone with someone he thought was a potential threat. Paul looked a little less flighty now that Sam was between him and Dean, but he still looked terrible, and was wringing his hands in front of him. His gaze kept shifting to Sam and away from him as if he didn't want to look at him, but was forcing himself to. Sam never thought he would say this, but he felt sorry for him. He decided to break the ice since he knew how intimidating Dean could be.

"I know what you did, Paul," Sam told him.

"I-I…" Paul stuttered, casting Dean a frightened look as the older boy's raised eyebrow.

"Calling 911," Sam offered with a small smile. "It was you, wasn't it?" He took Paul's silence as confirmation. "It was really brave. Thank you."

Paul seemed to sag a bit. "I-I'm so sorry, Sam. I never meant—" He had made it to the chair and he sunk down, putting his face in his hands. "I didn't know what Chris was going to do, I swear, I just thought he was going to bring you there so we could have a rematch, that's what he told me. I was angry you showed me up in front of everyone at school and it was stupid, I see that now. I never wanted you to be hurt, I just wanted to scare you."

"Why, Paul?" Sam asked gently, watching the tortured boy with a new sympathy. It wasn't his fault his brother was a class A douchebag.

"I don't know," Paul huffed, sniffing loudly, looking down at his feet. "No one ever really made friends with me. I think they were scared of my brother, and I guess…I guess I kind of became the scary one because I…I don't know, I'm sorry!"

Sam watched him break down, looking meaningfully at Dean. His older brother scowled before he sighed resignedly and went around the bed to lean over Paul.

"Hey, kid," he said, causing Paul to start as he nudged his shoulder. The boy looked like he might faint. Dean crouched to make himself seem less intimidating.

"Look, Paul, is it?" Dean continued. "You don't have to do what your brother tells you, you don't have to be like him." Sam was surprised to hear those words come out of Dean's mouth, almost smiling. "He's a douchebag, and no wonder he doesn't have friends. You shouldn't let him keep you from doing what you want, and what you know is right. You called for help for Sam for a reason, right?"

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I felt bad about everything, because it was so stupid, and got way out of hand. I don't know how it got so out of hand. I couldn't believe how bad he hurt you, Sam; I was so shocked I couldn't stop him. I hadn't seen anyone hurt that bad before."

"Hey," Dean knocked a fist against his knee, getting his attention again. "Crap happens, kid, that's life. I would have preferred it hadn't been my brother, but I think you're even now, right?"

Paul nodded miserably. "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, trust me, kid, if you haven't come in here sorry you would be soon enough," Dean told him in no unfamiliar terms. "The only reason I'm not kicking your ass down the hall right now is because you called 911 for Sam. But you understand that's not where this ends, right? This is a serious matter, the doctors aren't gonna let this slide without investigation, and it's only a matter of time before the police are involved."

Paul looked scared. Sam reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Paul I know you don't want to turn your brother in, no matter what he did, and you don't have to, but if I have to testify, I will tell the truth. I just want you to know that," Sam told him gently.

Paul nodded, his face in his hands.

"Do your parents know anything about this?" Dean asked.

Paul sighed. "My parents are divorced, and my dad just doesn't care. He's never home. Chris usually looks after me. When…when he's not yelling or…hitting me."

Sam glanced at Dean sadly. The brothers shared a look, but they knew that there was only one way this was going to end. Dean sighed and stood up again.

"We'll make sure you at least don't take the fall for this, Paul," Dean told him. "That's the only thing I can promise. But your brother is going to have to pay for what he did."

"I know," Paul whispered. "It's just that…"

"Hey," Dean told him. "If you're afraid of him, of what he might do when he finds out, don't be. You helped my brother, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Besides, it's not like I need more of a reason."

Paul nodded slowly, putting his face in his hands again.

"All right," Dean rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "Look, if you two are all right for a couple minutes, I'm going to run and grab a cup of coffee. I'll be right back, don't you dare move, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's back as he left the room. He craned his head back to look up at the ceiling, closing his eyes tiredly.

"I am honestly sorry, Sam, I just want you to know that," Paul said again. Sam wanted to tell him to stop apologizing, but knew that wasn't going to help him at all, and it _was_ well founded, after all. Instead he forced a small smile onto his bruised lips.

"Well, I just hope this will turn you off picking on people from now on."

Paul nodded vigorously. "Oh, don't worry, I won't. I've had my fair share."

At least Paul had learned something from this, Sam thought wearily. Even if he had nearly had to die to get to that point. He let out a deep breath, his whole chest and stomach aching from the effort. He shifted to find a more comfortable position.

"Are you all right?" Paul asked hesitantly, seeing the lines of pain tightening his features.

"Ask me that in a week or so," Sam grunted. He reached for the morphine button, glad Dean wasn't there to see him being a wimp, and was starting to drift off again, the morphine doing its work.

He almost made it when footsteps sounded in the doorway and he heard Paul gasp.

"There you are, little brother, I was wondering where you got to."

Sam's eyes shot open, the voice chilling him instantly, dredging up painful memories. Paul was on his feet, almost cowering away from the figure who had just come into he room.

"Chris," Paul said, and for some reason, the fear in his voice ignited Sam's anger afresh.

"I sincerely hope you aren't tattling," Chris told him, his voice dripping disgust and anger. "I thought you would have learned your lesson after that poorly judged call you made."

"I just wanted to make sure he was okay," Paul said quietly, shrinking back against the bed as Chris strode into the room.

"Paul, stand up to him, call for help," Sam told him, already reaching for the call button.

Chris leapt the last few feet and grabbed Sam's wrist in a tight grip, shoving the monitor out of his reach. "Not this time, freak. Try anything and the beating resumes instantly."

"Chris stop, ah!" Paul cried out as his brother grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him roughly forward, causing the younger boy to sprawl on his hands and knees. Chris reached down and dragged him upright again.

"You even think of telling anyone about this, and you will regret it," Chris growled at his little brother. "Now we're going home and you're not going to peep, do you understand me?"

Paul glared at him then cried out as Chris backhanded him across the face, causing Sam to flare in anger, wishing he could do something, but completely helpless in his current position.

"I said do you understand?!" Chris yelled.

"Hey, asshat." Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Dean appeared in the doorway and slammed his fist into Chris's jaw, shoving Paul behind him. Chris reeled back but came back with a roar, swinging at Dean. The elder Winchester sidestepped and slammed a fist into Chris's stomach, before delivering a right hook to his jaw and shoving him back against the wall hard enough that he bounced and sprawled on the floor. Dean stood over him, fists clenched, and angry lines evident in his jaw and shoulders. He rolled Chris onto his back with a rough kick to his ribs. Chris woofed out all his air as Dean stamped his foot right into the middle of his chest, grinding the heel in.

"You are so lucky you didn't catch me outside or I would beat your ass into the ground, you son of a bitch." He ground his heel down harder, making Chris groan. "_No one_ hurts my little brother and gets away with it."

At that moment several nurses arrived, likely having heard the commotion. They stepped forward to grab Dean when Paul stopped them.

"No, wait, the other one's the one you want. He…he was the one who beat Sam."

"And how do you know this?" asked one of the nurses.

"Paul," Sam started, but Paul glanced back at him, giving him a resigned look. Sam stopped instantly.

"He's my brother and I was there when it happened," he said.

Chris growled. "Shut up, Paul. He doesn't know what he's talking about!" he protested then Dean kicked him again before another nurse, pulled him away from the other boy with a warning look.

"Call hospital security and get a police officer here," the nurse said, motioning to Chris to stay where he was on the ground. The look on Dean's face helped more than anything else.

"Will you testify?" the other nurse asked Paul.

The boy nodded. "Yes, I will."

Dean returned to sit on the edge of Sam's bed protectively as security came and cuffed Chris. Sam watched as the nurse and another security guard questioned Paul before the police officer got there. There was nothing about this victory that felt good. The fact that Paul had turned against his brother, even though Chris had been a terrible person, still ate at him. He reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, not even caring what his older brother thought of the 'girly' display. Dean didn't say anything, just gripped his hand tight and set it against his knee.

The officer came soon enough and got everything sorted out, arresting Chris and listening to Paul's story gravely. Sam was almost sick when Paul proved the story by raising his shirt and showing bruises old and new, on his chest and back. Sam knew well enough that not all of those were the ones he had given the boy in their short fight. He felt Dean squeeze his hand harder, as his jaw set in anger and knew his brother was wishing he had gotten a few more hits in when he had taken Chris down.

The officer finally came to question Sam who told everything the way it had happened, exhausted but drawing strength from Dean who stayed by his side the whole time, his thumb smoothing over his bruised knuckles as if proud of the marks that showed that Sam had fought back.

"What will happen to Paul?" Sam asked after he had finished and the police officer was making final notes.

"I'm going to call his father first of all and explain what happened," the officer told him. "And after that, I believe that we can make an exception for him. His actions toward you were never malicious as you said, even though he did his fair share of bullying. As long as he stays on the straight and narrow, everything should be fine. I think the circumstances of his position are explanation enough for his actions."

Sam nodded, strangely relieved. Despite what Paul had done to him and Jeremy and likely many others, seeing Chris treat him like dirt and the marks of abuse he carried had made him angry, and Paul's confession had surprised him and made him hopeful that the bully was reformed enough to maybe make something of himself now. Make friends.

"We might have a few follow up questions, and I'll want to talk to your dad when he gets here," the officer said, handing his card to Dean. "Call me if you have any questions. I'll leave you to get some rest, Sam."

He left the room and the nurse, Tiffany came in to check on Sam again, making sure he was comfortable and his vitals were good after all the excitement.

"How about some soup now, Sam?" she asked.

Sam was exhausted but he didn't feel like he was going to throw up either, so he nodded.

Dean helped him eat some of the soup, though he couldn't manage much, and then his eyes refused to stay open another minute. Dean looked down at him as he set the soup aside and Sam cracked his eyes open again.

"Dean, I'm all right, really," he assured him, even though he knew it would do little good to his big brother.

Dean sighed and pulled his blankets up to his chin, tucking them gently around his body as if he was still a kid. A small smile flickered across Sam's busted lips.

"Come on, Dean, I thought we weren't allowed any chick flick moments."

Dean brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes, seeming to relax a bit. "I'm just glad you're okay. Now go to sleep, bitch."

Sam smiled a little wider, though it made him wince. "Jerk," he whispered before he drifted off.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter did not want to happen, but I finally got it finished. Still not happy with the end though, oh well. :P Hope you all like it anyway, it's pretty much just family moments. Typical to the Winchester family. **

Chapter Nine

Sam woke to muffled conversation and tried to place the familiar cadences as he opened his eyes and found himself in the hospital room. He still felt a little muzzy from the pain medicine, and his body, for the most part, felt numb; that was something to be thankful for, at least. But as he looked around he saw he was alone in the room and felt a slight panic in his chest.

"De'n," was all he was able to croak, his mouth dry, and his face stiff with bruises and swelling.

The conversation stopped instantly and the door, which had been slightly cracked, opened as his big brother entered the room, somehow hearing Sam even though he shouldn't have been able to. Sam would have shook his head fondly, if he wasn't so tired. Dean looked a bit haggard and annoyed, and Sam wondered if he had slept.

"Hey, you doing all right?" he asked as he got to the bed, and pushed the hair from Sam's forehead as if checking for fever. Sam moaned slightly in response, deciding that was enough to get his point across.

Another figure entered the room and he looked up, slightly surprised to see his dad. John's face was weary, looking even worse than Dean, but it was covered in relief as he saw his youngest son's eyes open, even if they were clouded with pain medicine.

"Dad," Sam murmured and Dean stepped aside slightly to let his father come over to the bed.

"Sammy," John breathed and touched his face gently, his fingers trembling slightly. "I was so worried, boy, don't ever do that again."

"I wasn't planning on't th'first time," Sam whispered, attempting a smile, but didn't think he got very far.

A small smile touched John's lips as well. "I'm just glad that boy called for help. I don't want to think…"

"Dad," Dean said sharply, wincing slightly. "Everything's okay now, it all turned out all right." His hand settled on Sam's forearm.

"Yes it did. This time," John said, his voice hardening slightly as he looked at his elder son. "Next time, I hope you'll be with him when he gets in trouble."

Dean stiffened and looked down at the hospital blanket covering Sam, his grip on the younger's arm tightening slightly. Sam read the tension in his jaw for what it was, knowing his brother better than anyone, and instant anger flared in him as he realized why Dean had looked so angry when he came in. He had likely been arguing with their dad about what happened, as usual, taking the blame for every mistake Sam made. He glared up at John.

"It wasn't Dean's fault, Dad. You're the one who sent him away." It came out more harshly than he meant it to, but it was too late, and the anger was already washing over John's features.

"Don't make excuses for him, Sam. He knows his job."

"I was the one who left!" Sam protested.

"And Dean was the one who allowed you to go out when he wasn't there, he should have said no," John said firmly, thinking to end the conversation. "Now I have a mess to figure out with the insurance and hospital payments, and police reports too. This is just the kind of thing I like to avoid, boys."

"Hey, the dick responsible for this is being put away, it's more than we could ask," Dean said, anger flaring. "Would you rather I had shot him myself? Because I would have, if he wasn't already arrested, for what he did to Sam."

"Dean, don't start again," John warned him. "You know I would want to see justice served, but we're going to have to skip town pretty quickly before they find out too much about us."

"No. Sir," Dean growled firmly with false respect. "We aren't going anywhere until the docs okay Sammy. He almost _died_; do you not get that? You can go if you want, but I'm not gonna leave this hospital until I know Sam's alright. If you do anything to hurt him, as unintentional as it may be, I will take it out on you. You understand that, don't you…sir?

John's anger flared, facing down his eldest son as Dean stood and met his gaze fearlessly. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy, and assume I would do anything to hurt either of you. But there are other things at stake here. If they found out how we live, they'll snag Sam and throw him into a foster home and we'd never see him again. How would you like that?"

Dean glowered, his fists clenching at his sides, angry, but Sam could see the fear too; it was no lie that his worst fear, maybe his only real fear, was having Sam taken away from him, and it was cruel to see their dad throw it into his face so carelessly.

"I'm not risking him," he said in a hushed voice.

"Then be prepared to say goodbye if things go sideways."

Dean looked like he might hit their father, but Sam grabbed his sleeve with what little strength he had and forced out, "Stop it! Please stop!"

They did, amazingly, and looked down at the youngest Winchester, lying so pitiful looking on the bed, tears brimming in his swollen eyes.

"Stop fighting because of me. I can't stand it. Dad, none of this was Dean's fault and I won't let anyone say it is. I made my own decisions and what happened happened, and it turned out okay this time—at least compared to what could have happened. Just…let's just forget it, and do what we have to. If we have to leave, then we'll leave, but we probably won't have to, so let's just deal with one thing at a time." He looked up at Dean, still clutching his sleeve. His speech had tired him out, but he had to get out this last thing. "And I'm not leaving you. Ever. Not like that. So don't even consider that an option. They'll never take me away, and if they try, I'll always find you."

Dean cracked a smile, transferring Sam's grip on his sleeve to his hand and squeezing. Sam looked back up at John. "Please don't blame Dean, Dad. He wouldn't have let it happen if he were here."

John sagged and he sighed, the anger vanishing. He cupped Sam's cheek with one hand and settled the other on the back of Dean's neck, pulling him close so he could touch his forehead to his for a second. "I'm sorry, I was just scared about what happened. You know I love you boys, and I don't want anything to happen to you." He left the rest unsaid, but the two brothers knew well enough: _not after what happened to your mother._

He dropped his hands to his sides again. "I need to see to business. Rest, Sam. You need to heal."

Sam nodded, already feeling tired again. He wondered how long that would last, it was getting a little tiring. He didn't actually know how long he had been in the hospital. He thought maybe a day and a half—maybe two days? Oh well, he'd ask Dean later.

Dean looked even more tired than he did as he slumped into the chair beside the bed and carefully kicked his feet up to rest beside Sam.

"Have you slept at all?" Sam had to ask.

"Yeah," Dean lied, glaring at his younger brother's disbelieving glance.

"Sleep, Dean," Sam commanded.

"You sleep," Dean shot back, but wasn't able to stifle a yawn. Sam smirked slightly. Dean groaned and settled his hands over his stomach as he slouched further down in the chair. "Whatever, maybe just a nap, but you have to sleep too, kiddo."

"Don't think I could stop myself," Sam said, as he watched Dean's eyes slide shut and saw his older brother fall almost instantly asleep. The sight made him weary too, and he slid his own eyes shut, deciding a few more hours of rest couldn't hurt.

* * *

_John came back later_ to find both his boys sleeping peacefully. It brought a smile to his lips, and a little guilt about how he had treated them. It was a hard life, and he hoped the boys knew he cared so much about them. Too much, maybe. He was glad they had each other, at least that counted for something, made up for having a lousy father.

He moved further into the room, watching Sam's battered chest rise and fall shakily. His stomach twisted at the thought of his and Mary's baby beaten so badly, and knew he would never forgive himself for what had happened, and Dean wouldn't either, especially if he didn't let himself do so. That kid carried guilt like it was his own skin. He sighed, looking over to his eldest son who took all his crap usually without a word, and that was almost more heartbreaking than anything. No kid should ever have to deal with that, and John made a vow to do better by him and Sam both. He knew he'd break it down the line, or forget it, but for now, he would try his best to do just that.

He took a spare blanket from the foot of Sam's bed and draped it over Dean. The elder brother stirred and jerked awake, but settled as he saw there was no danger. John nodded to him as Dean sank back down against the chair.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, looking pained. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"Yeah you did," John told him with a rueful smile. "And I'm glad. The things you're willing to do for your brother, well, son, I wish I had half your courage. I couldn't think of anyone I would trust more to care for him than you."

"It's my job," Dean said, not like a martyr, but proudly as if it was the only job in the world he had ever wanted, and that made John proud of him.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean," John told him finally. "And I'm sorry for what I said to you. And you shouldn't blame yourself for it. It might have happened if you were there too, hell, it might have been both of you."

"Nah," Dean said with a forced grin. "I would have kicked their asses."

John smiled. "Maybe." He glanced back at Sam. "We'll stay until the doctors say he can leave. It should be fine."

Dean seemed to relax instantly and John mussed his short hair slightly. "Go back to sleep, tiger. There's nothing else to do."

"Sure." Dean nodded and settled back into the chair again, and John took up his vigil now, looking after both his boys. He only hoped that one day this wouldn't be the norm for them, but even then, he knew how futile that probably was. Even so, if they could just have a few moments of peace on occasion, and if they had each other, maybe things would be okay. Maybe things would turn out okay in the end.

He figured that was the best they could hope for.

**Well, there's only a short epilogue left that I will be posting tomorrow! Hope you all enjoyed this one :)**


	10. Epilogue

**Just a short little epilogue to wrap up the story and give you extra feels :) Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who read this and faved and reviewed! You guys are always so awesome and I'm always surprised at the response my stories get so again, thank you! You always make my day ^^**

Epilogue

Sam started his long recovery over the next few weeks, able to leave the hospital after a few more days of observation. Once they got back to the apartment, Dean was almost unbearable with all his mother-henning toward his younger brother, but at the end of the day, Sam wouldn't have traded any of it for the world, even if Dean was incredibly annoying on occasion. It was better than not having an older brother at all.

Many times during his recovery, he found himself thinking about Paul and Chris and how the teenager hadn't been lucky like Sam had. Sometimes, he thought he took Dean for granted, and he decided he should never do that again after what happened to Paul. It actually scared him to think about what could have so easily been his life and he was continuously thankful that it was not the case.

Paul actually stopped by several times during Sam's recovery. He seemed more subdued, but he was completely changed from the mean bully Sam had met when he first started going to school there. Jeremy visited too, and sometimes did so at the same time as Paul, and the two boys slowly became good friends with their former enemy.

Of course, the Winchesters couldn't stay there forever, Sam had known this, but it would be one of the harder places to leave. Despite what had happened to him, he had also made good friends and he would be sorry to leave them.

Paul and Jeremy came to see them as they were packing the Impala, Dean doing most of the work as he still wouldn't let Sam lift anything; he decided to enjoy that while it lasted. Besides, he was still sore. Broken ribs and internal bleeding would do that.

"Hey!" he greeted the two boys with a smile as they rode their bikes up, waving at him.

"We thought we'd come to see you off before we go to the park," Jeremy told him, clasping his hand in greeting.

"Yeah, Jeremy invited me to go play basketball with them," Paul said, beaming. "Wish you could come."

"Yeah, me too," Sam told them regretfully. But he had been really glad to see Paul and Jeremy become friends. Maybe it would keep the former bully from turning to old ways. Though Sam didn't think there was any risk of that after what had happened. Paul was a new person, and he was glad to see it just as much as he was glad to see Jeremy taking to the other boy. He knew how hard it was to forgive past hurts, but Jeremy was a naturally kind person, and he wasn't the sort who held grudges. He hoped he would be able to give Paul a new family since his old one was broken.

"We'll sure miss you, man," Jeremy said sincerely. "And I think Clara Powell is going to be upset you left before the dance."

"You should ask her," Sam said with a grin, as Jeremy blushed slightly.

"Yeah, you think she'd go with me? I think she likes the hero types more."

"Just ask her and see," Sam chuckled, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Sam, we need to get going," Dean called and Sam turned back to his friends regretfully.

"I guess we need to leave," he said with a sigh, clasping their hands and embracing them a bit gingerly with his still healing injuries. "I'll miss you guys. Stay good, Paul."

Paul grinned and nodded sincerely. "I will. I have you to thank for that."

"Well at least my injuries did some good," Sam teased, letting Paul know he didn't blame him. "If either of you ever need help, just call," he added.

"We'll do that," Jeremy told him with a nod.

They said goodbye, and then Sam crossed to the Impala and slid into the passenger seat. Dean waved to the other teenagers before he got behind the wheel and started the engine. Their dad pulled out in his truck first and Dean followed behind. Paul and Jeremy waved to them, and Sam lifted his hand in farewell before settling back against the seat and letting out a sigh.

Dean looked over at him. "You good?"

Sam nodded after a while. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not gonna cry on my shoulder then?" Dean asked, barely hiding a smirk.

Sam swatted him. "No way, jerk."

"Let me know if you change your mind, bitch," Dean grinned before sliding a tape into the cassette player and turning up the volume as AC/DC blared from the speakers. Sam sighed in fond annoyance and settled back against the seat, but a smile spread over his lips anyway.

Some things never changed.

The End

**Keep a lookout for my new story which I should start posting next weekend, a typical adventure case fic where I strand the boys out on a mountain and there might be lots of problems. Thanks again for sticking with this story! **


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